Lions and Men
by Novexus Prime
Summary: Brigid is a prostitute of Roma's own Scarlet Willow. Ceana, a crusader's humble and hardworking sister. Brianag, a U.S fugitive and photosensitive artist. What do these centuries seperated women have in common? All rose above and beyond social propriety to fight for what they believe in. All touched by and desperately needed by the Assassin Order, much to the Assassin's chagrin.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to the pilot chapter of Lions and Men. I want to say that I may not have the absolute best knowledge of day-to-day life in this time period but I am going to do my best to do it justice. I'm not going to give a background of my characters or the situation because that's just lazy and a good writer doesn't need all that. However I will say that my OC, being and Irish woman is partial to Irish habits, references, etc. Also I want to say that none of what I write here is meant to offend anyone and by writing this fanfiction I make no claim of ownership over the Assassin's Creed name. All things Assassin's Creed are indeed property of their respective owners. Not me. Please, God, don't sue me. I has no monies.**

**With all that out of the way let's get started.**

_**Ni feidirach Dia breithiunas orm.**_

_**Ta Faic Fior**_

_**Ta Sac Rud Ceadate**_

Chapter One.

The Cost of Love.

The quill gripped firmly in her hand, she outlined the army's current position among the groves on the map. As accurate as she can figure by the drunken man's words a mere hour before. From between her painted lips a light channel of air was ushered against the ink, aiding it's drying. On the corner of the large map she wrote out the estimated numbers of men indicated there and any special weapons she caught mention of. The Borgia allies and generals were rich men, rich but foolish. Their forces were evidence of this fact. Comparing the army's current location to their position a few days ago, Brigid concluded this mass of men was driving to the coast, reinforcements as far as she could tell. Her information was outdated in relation to the men fighting there but as she suspected, the battle is long and as she estimated; the commanding powers decided to end the battle in one swoop. Brigid flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder, scowling at the maps strewn across her desk. All the parchments littered with notes and marks of positions. The Borgia general, whoever he may be is proving to be a poor strategist, relying and winning this war with only brute strength. With her current information, Brigid studied the indicators. Between this army and the coast was a single piece of empty plains and a small amount of thick forest along with a fair sized river. _The Assassins have their work cut out for them,_ Brigid silently remarked. It bothered her greatly to have no current information of the secretive brotherhood. Her only means of predicting their movements being past battles, skirmishes, and assassinations that were mentioned in the halls and foyer of the brothel. Limited intelligence to say the least. Footsteps passed her door and Brigid moved across her bedroom to check the lock on her door was indeed in place before returning to her desk. Icy green eyes returned to the map as she marked the Borgia's possible route to the coast. Regardless of the route they chose, the army had to cross the river. This, she decided, would be the greatest opportunity to strike, destroy their largest weapons and retreat before the men had chance to fall into ranks and defend themselves. At least long enough to ensure they were left only with handheld weaponry. Brigid narrated her battle plan in her leather bound journal, and let the pages remain open so the ink could dry.

A soft knock at her door made Brigid stand abruptly. "Yes?" She called. A petite voice replied through the wood. "Tulio is asking for you. Should I tell him you're busy?"

"No, I'll be down in a moment. Thank you, Vittoria." Brigid gathered the maps, rolling them carefully and binding them in tight coils before storing them in an oak chest in the corner of her room and turning the lock, depositting the key under her bed. The journals and notebooks were closed and hidden away in her vanity drawer. One brush in her right hand and a key in the other, she unlocked her door while running the brush through her straight brown hair. The key was put down along with the brush and Brigid took time to fix and reapply her makeup. More red paint was applied to her lips and with her little finger, she wiped at the edges to ensure a smudge free look. No powder was put on her naturally porcelain skin, something considered exotic in these lands, and only the lightest bit of kohl was used to line her upper eye lids. Her pearl earrings were removed, Tulio had the tendency to pull at her hair and mistakenly jerk her earrings along with it. A short chain of pearls were draped around her neck and rose with the swell of her breasts in the tight vice of her corset. She noticed the positive reactions that came with a few heavy breaths while wearing a corset years ago. The emerald silk of her skirt was readjusted, her hand braced against one of the four tall posts of her bed for stability to slide her shoes into place on her feet. Before leaving the room she stopped to check her appearance in the mirror. The thin silk of her skirt was left with no peticoat underneath and left to cling to the curves of her hips and legs, something of her own design, and the long slit in the fabric up to her thigh allowed for a provocatively obstructed view of her right leg. The shoes, also a special creation of her own design resembled an old style of sandals with a unique heel that rose nearly four inches from the ground, giving her legs a longer appearance. The corset only barely concealed the rosy peaks of her breasts and pushed the mounds upwards in an unnatural cleavage which the pearls drew attention to.

Using a long wooden shaft, Brigid lit a scented candle from the glowing embers in her fireplace in the hopes that it would keep the smell of sweat and sex at bay. She stepped out into the long hallway, shutting the door behind her and smoothing the wrinkles of her skirt as she strode away from her room.

"Good evening, Brigid. I trust you're well." Madam Olivetti smiled warmly at her adopted daughter.

"Yes, thank you." Brigid returned the smile.

The older woman tapped Brigid's upper back, "You're slouching. I raised you to have better posture than that. Don't forget you're a lady, carry yourself as such."

She corrected herself. "Forgive me, I've spent too many days and nights bent over books."

Madam Olivetti's brow furrowed. "You've continued your studies then?" She fell into step with Brigid, walking down the stairs in the same manner as noble women.

"Yes, I understand the risks and I accept them," She stated coldly.

"Do what you must to mantain your secrecy." Olivetti advised. "But I suppose a student of war needn't be reminded of that."

Brigid smiled at her mother, grateful for her understanding. Any other woman would have forbidden her child take up such masceline endeavors as Brigid did. Should her work be discovered, at her rank in society, she would thrown into a prison without a second thought. She didn't dare imagine what could happen if one of the Borgia allies or worse, one of the Assassins discovered her secret.

"I see Tulio is here for you," Olivetti stopped at the end of the staircase. "I'll leave you to it." She touched Brigid's shoulder gently before striding away from her to a group of girls, dressed in the usual courtesan attire. Brigid refused to conform to such standards, at her own peril, and because of her innovative way in her profession, quickly became the highest grossing woman in the house.

"Brigid," Tulio grinned, nearly from ear to ear. "It's lovely to see you again." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to his knuckles. Brigid silently despised the feel of his goatee against her skin, but disguised her distaste with a warm smile.

"I missed you," She pouted her red lips. "I feared you wouldn't return to see me again."

Unlike the native peoples of this land, Tulio hailed from Spain, one of the many men who frequented the brothel while allied with the Borgia. From what she was told, Brigid knew he was a man who ranked high in society, with many men at his disposal and loyal to his cause, whatever it may be.

His brown eyes roamed her body shamelessly. "I take it this dress is another creation of yours?" He asked.

"Of course." She suppressed a shiver. "I will not wear something another woman could mimic. I am a one of a kind item."

His hand found its way to her waist, "Indeed you are." He whispered in her ear.

Brigid rolled her eyes while he wasn't looking and took his hand. "Let's have a drink," She smiled, leading him to the long row of couches and lounges, each set seperated by a deep crimson curtain.

Tulio sat on a loveseat, Brigid draped herself across his lap, the slit in her skirt falling away from her crossed legs. His rough hand touched her knee and slid up her leg, stopping at her thigh. A servant approached the two, leaving a bottle of red wine and a bowl of strawberries on a table before scurrying away.

"My favorite!" Brigid lit up with false but convincing glee, taking heavy breaths while her chest was at Tulio's eye level. The man poured himself a glass of wine while Brigid took a bite of a strawberry, moving slowly as she took a bite and moaning her appreciation of the flavor. She played up the sound, mimicing the voice that often emitted from the bedrooms in the house.

"I love that sound," He growled after taking a sip from his wine, gripping her rear with one hand. "Especially when you're with me." He leaned forward and kissed her neck, the hair of his chin making her shudder, she masked it as arousal.

"Please Tulio, people are looking." She whispered.

"I've had my fill of wine," He put his half empty glass on the table. "I have another hunger." He kissed her neck again.

"I look forward to it," She gave a breathy laugh. "Let's leave this public place for something a bit more intimate." Brigid stood, taking Tulio's hand and leading him away from the seats. Madam Olivetti stood at the base of the stairs, a welcoming smile for Tulio.

"Welcome back," She bowed her head respectfully. "I fear you've become too fond of Brigid." The older woman joked.

"I'll have nothing less than the best." He agreed.

"She is indeed the best I offer," Madam Olivetti nodded.

Brigid turned to Tulio. "You two have some business to work out, I'll go to my room and freshen up. Can you find your way?"

Tulio's eyes roamed her once more. "Of course. I'll be with you in a moment."

Brigid continued up the stairs, one hand on the polished banister and an exagerated sway in her hips.

Once in her room, Brigid checked the security of the variety of weapons hidden away for her protection should a client develop a slightly bloody urge. The embers of her fireplace were stirred to life and a few drops of scented oil were rubbed into the flesh of her neck. Her shoes were kicked off and Brigid sprawled across the bed, her hair laying around her head like a halo while her skirt rode up to her thigh.

Two raps against her door were answered with an eager "Come in".

Tulio entered the room, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed. Brigid sat up, running her hands up his chest and unclasping the red cape from his shoulders.

"Tell me of the dangers you've been facing since you last visited me." Brigid smiled while helping in his undressing. "Nothing excites me like your stories. I want to here of your victories against the Assassins." She couldn't care less which side of the war fell or which succeeded, but this opportunity to gather more information couldn't be passed up.

While Tulio boasted of his victories, she commited every detail to memory. "You fought him on the rooftops?" She gasped. "Your courage is astounding." She rained light kisses on his jaw and neck. "Tell me more," She requested.

"Later," He pulled her skirt away, not bothering with the ties of her corset. "I'm tired of words."

ooo000OOO000ooo

Tulio left a few minutes ago, Brigid pulled a robe around herself and hurried to the wash room at the end of the hall. Sylvie, a woman kept on staff to thoroughly clean the women after sessions with clients to lessen the possibility of pregnancy, turned to greet Brigid.

"Have a seat," She motioned to a narrow table, half of the table slopes upwards to give comfort to the feminine bodies that lay there.

Brigid slid onto the table, laying down and propping the balls of her feet on the edge.

Sylvie dipped a sponge into a bowl of newly warmed water, beginning her task of removing Tulio's seed. Brigid stared at the ceiling, searching for images among the steam swirling above her to keep her mind away from the rough intrusion between her legs. After being thoroughly washed, Brigid indulged in a bath, relaxing in the hot water and enjoying the fingers washing her hair and scalp. Dried and clean, Brigid strode back to her room. Madam Olivetti waited by Brigid's door, a worried expression on her face.

"Is something wrong?" Brigid asked, opening the door and motioning her mother to enter.

"Yes," She answered, one hand pulling at her greying black hair anxiously.

"I've never seen you so on edge," Brigid noted while brushing her still wet hair.

Olivetti stood behind Brigid to make eye contact with the younger woman's reflection. "Members of the Borgia alliance have sent a contact to make an appointment. I was told to make preparations for a party of high ranking vatican officials and a variety of politicians who support Rodrigo and his cause. God help us should Cesare or Rodrigo decide to follow suit."

Brigid pulled her hair into a messy updo and pinned it in place. "I don't understand, why are you worried?"

"Your presence has been requested specifically." Olivetti continued.

"Surely they know I don't take just any man to my bed." Brigid sniffed.

"Yes, it is well known. That's what worries me. Cesare has a taste for women,"

Brigid snorted, very unladylike. "He's never given a single florin for the women in his bed. I'd rather turn him away than risk the wrath of Lucrezia."

"Regardless, he only asks for the best of my merchandise. He is a clever man, ambitious and shrewd. I fear for the safety of your work." Olivetti's eyes darted to the oak chest, still locked and secure.

"Another brothel has been alined with the Assassins. One that is frequently visited by said brotherhood's enemies, the woman managing the Rose in Bloom is extracting information and employing her courtesans to the Assassins benefit. We cannot allow ourselves to be caught up in a war not our own. Cesare is aware of those courtesan's agenda and he is trusting our establishment to remain impartial at the least. He's a suspicious man, if he has any reason to believe you are hiding something he will employ whatever means necessary to find what you wish to remain hidden." Olivetti took a pin from the vanity and used it to put a stray lock of hair back into place.

"He'll think you an Assassin informer. Your life will be the cost of his mistake."

Brigid sighed. "Only if someone gives him reason to believe I have something to hide. You and I are the only people who know. My secret is safe and so are you." She assured.

"At least let me hide the chest in the cellar, I'll stow your journals in a hidden compartment in my bedroom." Olivetti motioned to said chest.

"Any important man at war would have such a place searched from top to bottom," Brigid countered. "Look at the carvings, any person with sense could tell it does not belong in a dark, dusty cellar. It would be more risk putting it where it doesn't belong. In my room it looks as though it's where it needs to be. If anyone asks I'll tell them it holds important memories as I always do. To be safe I'll put the journals in the chest as well and give you the key. Does that make you feel better?"

Olivetti's shoulders dropped. "No. But it'll do. The party is expected tonight. Do what you must and rest well. Bring me the key as soon as you can."

"Of course," Brigid offered a soft smile. "Have a little faith in me."

"I trust you," Her mother defended. "It's Cesare and his men that frighten me."

The younger woman looked up sharply. "Stop worrying. If you worry, you will falter and give it away. Remind yourself that you have nothing to fear." Her green eyes bore into Olivetti's own brown orbs. "We support neither the Borgia or the Assassins. We have nothing to fear from this war."

Madam Olivetti walked to the door, stopping to give a parting statement. "The truth is not that simple, Brigid. Consider the lives you put in danger when you take these risks." With that she continued out the door.

Frustrated, Brigid threw her brush across the room. She buried her face in her hands while she considered the possibilities.

She could easily destroy all evidence, no, that was out of the question. The university; surely scholars could appreciate her studies and sympathise enough to conceal her work until she could make a way to continue her work safely. It was of no use fretting over these ideas, there was no way she could act upon them in the short time alotted. She would write the notes she had yet add to her journal and stow the books in the chest with enough time to get the key to Madam Olivetti without any witnesses of the suspicious hand-off.

The robe still tied tight around her waist, Brigid went to the desk and rushed in writing down the information divulged by Tulio and other reminders as to which map to mark out the location. The journal was left open to let the ink dry and Brigid hurried to dress and put her makeup back on. A crimson corset this time, black lace outlining the curves of her chest and waist with similiar lace strips hanging off her shoulders, black glass beads hanging by threads against her milky skin. Another thin silk skirt is draped around her hips, the fabric gathered at the sides to create flattering folds within the sea of shimmering crimson. Another one of a kind creation of her's, black thread was stitched in the likeness of thorned vines creeping up the skirt from the hem and ending just above her knees. More traditional black shoes were slipped on her feet and Brigid was relieved to have a night free of the tall heels she tortured herself with.

Kohl was applied to her eyes and lightly smudged. Colored pigments from crushed chalk and stained red was dabbed onto her eyelids and smoothed across the soft skin. Again her lips were painted and Vittoria entered the room, pulling Brigid's hair into loose braids that hung on either side of her face in the same manner she had seen the women of her home land do when she was still a child. Vittoria gave a small bow before leaving Brigid's room to dress herself for the engagement. The door shut and she stood from the vanity to find the key to the chest. Opening the lid, Brigid carefully stacked the journals and notebooks inside while giving the open journal on the desk another few moments to dry. Three hard knocks on the door gave her only enough time to shut the lid and lock it as a woman, only a year or two older than Brigid stepped through, a scowl across her pretty features.

"What do you want, Madonna?"Brigid returned the hostile expression.

The woman, dressed in customary courtesan clothes, leaned against the door with her arms folded across her chest. "Cesare is here for you, he's requesting your presence,"

"Alright," Brigid stood to her full height and turned her back on Madonna, a signal to leave.

"Now," The other pressed.

"I need a moment," Brigid hissed.

"He refuses to wait," Madonna replied with a smirk.

Brigid stared defiantly at the other courtesan, eyes cold and piercing as winter daggers. "Of course," She monotoned. "It would be rude to keep one of our most important clients waiting."

She made her way out of her room, stopping for a second to close the journal on her desk and push it to the corner. With the key clutched in her hand, Brigid walked down the hall in her usual manner; head high, back straight, shoulders back, and with all the confidence of a lady of breeding. Brigid pulled her mask into place, the mask that decieved the world into believing she rather be nowhere else but with the man who, at the time, gave the highest bid.

Through the windows of the foyer, Brigid could see the sun had only just fallen below the horizon, a few defiant rays of light staining the sky. The men of the evening had decided to arrive hours early, not surprising. Should any talk have reached the Assassins, they would have come to strike at the time appointed. A predictable, but well thought plan. At all the doors and windows, two men were posted at either side, in the dark red uniform that Borgia foot soldiers always wore. The majority of men stationed here carrying long polearms while another few stood with swords at their hips. Women, scantily dressed, lounged about the room at random places on the arms of important men. The men of the room either stood or laid on large groups of plump pillows. Jewelry glittered on most of the men's fingers, even around their necks in thick golden plates in a display of status and wealth. Every man had at least two women on their arms, firting shamelessly and planting kisses every so often. Brigid stood at the top of the stairs, her eyes searching the crowd for Madam Olivetti.

"I wasn't expecting them so soon." The aforementioned Madam made herself known beside Brigid.

She turned to face her mother. "It's fine. Here's the key." Brigid discreetly passed the key to Olivetti. "Madonna burst into my room before I could hide the last journal. She wouldn't leave and give me time enough to put it away. My most recent journal is still on my desk." Brigid spoke in hushed tones.

Olivetti slid the key inside her long sleeve and released a shaky breath. "Go to your room, lock the door. I'll tell Cesare that you're not feeling well and hope he understands. Under no circumstances are you to open your door. Stay in your room until dawn."

"Is that the woman whom I've heard about?" A voice intruded the conversation. Brigid held in a gasp.

"Cesare!" Olivetti smiled warmly. "You're early. Welcome, welcome." She stood in front of Brigid, bowing in respect.

"I do apologise, Madam Olivetti." Brigid watched Cesare's expression over her mother's shoulder.

"No matter, everything is prepared." Olivetti laughed, seemingly light hearted.

Brigid studied the man, searching his features for a sign that he heard any of their conversation before making himself known. She could detect none, but her unease did not settle.

"Is this Brigid?" He nodded to her, a grin on his face.

"Yes, my best girl." Olivetti waved her forward, she obeyed; stepping up and bowing her head to Cesare.

"It's an honor to meet you," Brigid smiled.

Her reply was a twitch of the lips.

"Unfortunately, Brigid is not feeling well tonight and was just about to retire for the night." Olivetti patted Brigid's back.

"Nonsense, she looks fine." Cesare insisted.

Olivetti could deny him no further without risking offense.

"I do feel much better," Brigid soothed, making a show of eyeing Cesare up and down with a coy smirk. "Something seems to have lifted my spirits."

"Of course," Olivetti conceded. "As a special privilige for my most important client I've made preparations for you two to adjourn to an exclusive room. Whenever you wish to use it, you'll find it just behind the double doors under the stairs."

Brigid caught on to what she was playing at. The bedroom below the stairs was Madam Olivetti's private chambers. Each luxury avaliable to this country could be found there. Brigid was genuinely grateful, she wouldn't have to go out of her way to draw Cesare's attention from the desk and chest.

"Thank you, that's very generous of you." Brigid gave a relieved smile.

"If you'll excuse us," Cesare put an arm around Brigid and steered her down the stairs.

Brigid steeled herself as she walked down the stairs. She watched the man beside her out the corner of her eye. His eyes indeed reflected the characteristics of his soul and traits of his mind: ambition, cunning, and many other traits that formed a dangerous combination to create the man beside her. His medium length hair looked smooth and freshly washed and his small beard appeared well trimmed. Of course he kept a neat appearance, he constantly drew support through being in the public eye. She kept in mind the need to tread lightly in his presence.

On the ground floor Brigid could see a woman, pressed against the wall while one of her clients held her in place, one of her legs hooked over his shoulder. Her cries under him were mimicked throughout the room as other couplings took place all around. It seemed bedrooms were no longer necessary for these private matters. Glasses of fine wine was passed throughout the room and Cesare accepted two, handing one to Brigid as he pulled long swills frome his drink. Brigid sighed to herself before emptying her glass in one moment. Perhaps a little alcohol would speed the evening along.

As time passed, every man in the room was well seated between a courtesan's legs and Brigid watched the activities with a secretly disgusted eye. Although the alcohol she consumed loosened her inhibitions and caused her manners to mellow, she didn't favor these public relations. Cesare became more than halfway inebriated and currently had Brigid's hands pinned above her head with one calloused hand while the other freely roamed her body. Brigid moaned and sighed in time with his ministrations, following the motions that were expected of a woman enjoying herself. A hand fumbled to find its way up her skirt and Brigid insisted on retiring to her room.

Up the stairs and down the hallway, Brigid led Cesare, taking careful steps as he made a point to fondle and caress her the entire way up to her room, as usual Brigid put on a show of enjoying his touch, almost convincing herself she enjoyed it. Something nagged at her mind, something the screamed she was forgetting something. But the haze of the alcohol couldn't be penetrated easily. The door to her chambers came into view and everything clicked into place. Brigid spun and stopped Cesare in his tracks, lips hovering above her neck.

"Forgive me," She laughed weakly to herself, a hand on her forehead. "I only just remembered that Madam Olivetti offered us the private chapters. My room will not do, it is too simple to show you. You should be in luxury." She smiled up at him.

"I do not mind. We're already here," He smirked and pushed open the door.

Hiding her wave of fear, Brigid turned and pulled Cesare into her room, lips on his as she did her best to retain _all_ of his attention.

The feeling of eyes on her made Brigid look up and around her room. There were no windows, no one could peep through. Craning her neck she saw the vague shape of a man sitting at her vanity, leg lifted and crossed at the ankle over the knee in a masculine manner of sitting. In a panic, Brigid screeched once and threw Cesare off her to stand and face the intruder.

Even sitting down, this stranger seemed intimidating, an air of danger around him. A white hood was pulled over his head, the pointed tip cast a shadow which obscured vision of anything above his lips. A small, trimmed beard lines his jaw and the hair ceases to grow close to a small scar over his lips, who carried a smug smirk. The white robes were the most outstanding of this man, the contrast of white and crimson left no doubt in her mind that she was standing before an Assassin. A skilled one at that, assuming he worked alone to reach Brigid's chamber undetected.

"How nice to see you again," Cesare stood to full height, drawing the sword from his side.

Brigid realized the situation she was caught in, her feet remained planted to the floor, despite her mind screaming at her to run and get help.

"I couldn't resist the opportunity to cut the head from the snake." The stranger replied cooly. Brigid enjoyed the sound of his voice.

"You believe you can end this war by killing me?" Cesare scoffed.

"Rodrigo will not be far behind you," The man added.

It clicked in Brigid's mind. In the manner Sun Tzu put it, Cesare represented the General, Rodrigo the sovereign, removing the two at once would leave the Assassin's enemies leaderless and crippled in chaos. This man could indeed end the war in one swoop, release the Borgia's stranglehold on the country and make life easier for all. The corruption would end quickly when properly acted upon.

Brigid made her decision. She stepped backwards and shut the door, locking it as well. Cesare eyed her with a venomous hate.

"Betray me and you will not be spared," He warned her.

Moving quickly, Brigid drew a dagger hidden behind her wardrobe and held it to his throat. "You cannot betray those you've always despised." She spat.

Cesare froze, not expecting such sure actions from a woman. Brigid looked to the Assassin, now standing and watching her movements.

"Kill him," She urged. "End all this."

Cesare moved while still in her grasp and she warned him to stand still by pressing the sharp edge against his jugular.

"Where did you take the apple?" The man questioned.

Brigid nearly gaped at him. She gave him the perfect chance to kill his greatest enemy and he took the time to ask questions? The fool! "Well hidden," Cesare answered with a smirk.

"Tell him what he wants to hear," Brigid hissed. "Or, as God as my witness, I will slit you from naval to nose."

"Rodrigo," Cesare answered between gritted teeth. "It was returned to him. What he did with it is beyond my knowledge."

Brigid watched him with narrowed eyes, searching for signs of deception. At this point it seemed as though he was trying to save his own skin. The sound of a click reached her ears and she looked up to see the Assassin, standing closer now with a long, wicked blade protruding from his wrist.

"Then I will question him next."

In a blur of movement, Cesare's elbow collided with Brigid's jaw, the woman was knocked backwards, the dagger falling from her hand and she gripped her jaw. A swing of his arm, the sword aimed at the Assassin was knocked aside with ease and Brigid ducked to avoid the swinging iron. Cesare struck again, the wine's effect showing as his aim was off. Brigid snatched her dagger off the floor and drove the hilt against Cesare's ribs, the man faltered enough for the Assassin to knock the sword from his grip. Suddenly the door vibrated with a resonating 'Bang!', making Brigid jump.

"Open this door!" A masculine voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

While she was distracted, Cesare gained his composure and wrapped an arm around her neck with a once hidden dagger pressed against her throat. The three froze in place, Cesare watching the Assassin who watched the other man in return and Brigid who alternated between the two. The door shook again, the hinges groaning under the blasts of force. Brigid knew the flimsy iron wouldn't stand another hit. Balling her hand into a fist and wrapping her free hand around it, Brigid swung her arms upwards in the same fashion as one would swing a war hammer, with similiar results. Her hands connected with his nose and mouth, Cesare stumbled backwards and Brigid darted across the bed. On the opposite side she pulled a bow from under the bed and quickly notched an arrow, aiming at Cesare. Never did she think she would be using the bow for more than memories.

"End it, Assassin! Kill him, quickly!" Brigid hissed.

In an instant, the door flew off the hinges, men waited outside the door with swords drawn. Brigid released the arrow into the doorway, hitting the man's chest with such force that he fell backwards and knocked one of his own out of the way. Cesare turned on his heel and fled down the hallway, Brigid cursed him for a coward. The Assassin moved in a blur of movement, throwing daggers, flashing hidden blades and turning the men's weapons against themselves with ease. Brigid drew arrow after arrow from under her bed and let them sail over the Assassin's shoulder and she struck each man that stepped through the threshold into her bedroom. The stream of enemies stopped for a moment and Brigid drew a sword and scabbard out from behind the vanity and pulled the Assassin by the hand.

"This way!" She led him to the farthest side of the room. With one foot she kicked hard at the wall and watched the piece fall away. The tunnel entrance was opened and she stopped to grab a candle and pouch from the bed side table. He paused at the entrance, looking at her. "Do you require instructions?! Go!" She nearly screamed at him. He moved forward, disappearing from her view. Brigid slid into the wall and sealed the cover back in place, dropping an iron bar in the way to buy more time.

The two traveled by candle light through the tunnel, the Assassin ahead of her and carrying the candle and Brigid with the bow around her shoulders and sword in hand.

"Take no turns," She advised. "This escape tunnel connects to the main system. You can get to anywhere in Rome from there."

"Thank you," He replied, his voice echoed down the tunnel and Brigid recieved a pleasant shiver up her spine. God help the competition should this man decide to take up a profession similiar to her's.

The roof of the tunnel quickly lifted and Brigid was no longer forced to turn her head or risk scraping her crown against the rough stone. The tunnel let out into a large cavern, a dozen or so other passages connected here.

"Take the candle with you," Brigid strapped the sword to her waist to free her hands, the black pouch tied to the leather belt. "I can see well enough in the dark."

He nodded.

"May I ask," Brigid dared to press the matter that ate away at her mind. "Why did you wait to kill Cesare?"

A sharp look told her her didn't need the answer. She pressed on anyway, "I believed that you would end it quickly, in a clean, quiet kill with little risk to I and my interests. If I had knowledge of your hesitation I would have run and hid just as any other woman would have. I would have protected myself."

"But you did not," The Assassin turned to look at her. "You stood up, bravely. You fought beside me and saved me many wounds."

"And I'll pay for it dearly," Brigid added.

"Only you can decide that."

Brigid laughed softly, seeing the truth in his words. "As I'm sure you can guess, Cesare will be out for my blood now. It's a good chance there is even a bounty on my head. I've nowhere safe to go without risking the life of anyone brave enough to shelter me."

"You want me to give you sanctuary with the other Assassins?" He finished for her with a smirk.

"Yes, I do. It is my understanding that I've taken a dangerous risk for you, and with that in mind, I believe there is a debt to be settled." She smiled mischieviously.

"I can try to make what arrangements for you I can." He smirked at her.

From the previously traveled tunnel echoes of shouts reached the cavern. A sense of urgency set in and Brigid motioned to the man before her. "Lead the way,"

**A/N: Well, I think we covered a lot of ground in this chapter. Now, if you follow this story you need to be sure to submit a review. I wrote another AC fic, it got no reviews but many follows and I did not hesitate to delete that one. I need to know whether this thing is worth continuing. On another note, does anyone else think it a coincidence that Brigid, a prostitute is getting mixed up with Ezio who is ... well... him? I didn't think about it at the time this plot popped up in my head but now it's staring me in the face saying "Yeah, retard, she's a hooker, he's a player. Did you really not know?" Oh well. So anyway, let me know if this is worth writing a second chapter for... Oh yeah, and a special thanks to Sombrette for her help. She's far out, yo.**

**-Kat**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm happy one of my new fics finally got some attention. The other two got exactly nothin'! Thank you all for the follows, the names I need to mention aren't in front of me at the moment but I'll be sure to give the appropriate shout outs in the ending notes. Pinky swear. One of my reviewers (Again, I'm sorry that I can't give credit at the moment) asked if Brigid will be returning for her chest. Yes, she eventually will. Currently I'm going to focus on her settling in her new environment. I'm also debating as to what point in the line of events should Brigid come in on. Obviously Cesare visiting a brothel with his homies wasn't at all part of any of the games so there's a lot of choices. But I have a specific point in mind and we'll see if I get to it in this chapter. If you haven't read any of my work before you know that I plan absolutely NOTHING and I just let things happen. So I have no idea what will occur in this particular chapter. That being said, I also struggle to pin how the characters will react to Brigid and I also debate if she'll let the Assassin's know straight away what she does. Ehh, you shouldn't have to listen to my nagging. Let's get this thing going.**

**P.S: I am a little unsure of how to properly spell Machiavelli's name. Due to the epically sucky circumstances I just have to sound it out and hope to God I don't look like an idiot. Hang in there, folks. We're gonna get there someday.**

**.**

.  
. . Where are we going?

**Chapter Two**

**The Wolf Among Coyotes**

_**Ni feidirach Dia breithiunas orm.**_

_**Ta Faic Fior**_

_**Ta Sac Rud Ceadate**_

The tall building itself looked old. The bricks which made it up appeared as if long ago they were a brilliant red but today many sun filled days bleached them a dull grey. Brigid kept close to the still nameless Assassin and held her head low, afraid a patrol of Borgia foot soldiers would appear and carry her away to a terrible fate. The Assassin led her around the building, passing random strangers as they mulled about the street. Brigid pressed against the wall to let a horse pass, the Assassin didn't pause to allow her to catch up. She quickened into a jog and walked with her shoulder to his, doing her best not to attract attention. However the form hugging dress she wore made that impossible. Men watched her walk past with eager eyes and for the first time she felt no pride in herself. The man at her side came to a halt, his hand holding open a door for her which she gratefully stepped through.

A long corridor of lightly descending stairs stretched before her, to her left a tunnel entrance was illuminated and beyond the mouth of the corridor she could see well mantained carpets and figures lounging in random places. Her escort took the lead and she followed closely, the pouch clutched tightly in her hand. At the bottom of the stairs Brigid could see the looming ceiling, banners hung and displayed the organization's emblem in proud stitching. A walk-in fireplace stood at the far southern wall and a woman in similiar robes of Brigid's escort gave her a sharp but curious look. Brigid met her gaze evenly, a silent challenge which was never met. The woman turned back to the flames and continued her business. Other Assassin recruits of various genders gave her various looks, none spoke up as the man led her up a flight of stairs. Through another door she found herself in a room decorated similiarly to the first which greeted her. Brigid noted a purpose in the furnishings more like that of a home, more oriented towards comfort. A plush chaise sat by another grand fireplace and a desk to the side was strangely bare. A few decorative rugs were thrown over the carpet in no particular manner and through an archway she could see a large bed.

"Your chambers?" She ventured a guess.

She was answered with a glance and a nod.

Brigid guessed again. "You expect me to share living space with you?"

"Considering your line of work I thought it wouldn't be a problem." He pulled his hood away and began to unbuckle the many fastens of his armor.

"Normally no," She agreed. "But it usually comes with a price and more than always I know the man's name."

"You'll see no money from me," He snapped.

Brigid almost glared.

He filled in the remaining blank."My name is Ezio Auditore,"

"Brigid MacMannus." She bowed her head respectfully. "A pleasure to meet you,"

He looked her over before pulling away the outermost layer of his robes. "You have two choices where you may sleep," He got straight to the point. "You're welcome to share the bed," A lascivious smirk was shot her way. "Or you may make yourself comfortable on the lounge."

Brigid dropped her bow and quiver of arrows beside the door. "What are my obligations should I opt for a night in the bed?" The sword and scabbard joined her other weapons.

"I don't normally plan such things." He flashed a grin.

Brigid understood the underlying meaning of his words. Something appealed to Brigid about the idea of this arrangement. Should she accept it of course. It would be a lie to say she hasn't thought of spending a _restless_ night in his bed during their short period in each other's company. It excited her to think of staying in this intimate space which belonged to him, waiting for him to return from a day of staring death in the face and being the victor time and time again, she enjoyed the thought of welcoming him back and easing his tensions with what she did best every night and day.

She watched him carelessly toss one of his pouches on the desk, one of the ties coming loose and a small silver ring rolling out onto the wooden surface. Crossing the room, she picked up the ring and found herself smiling fondly at the symbol she discovered.

"Where did you get this?" She asked, holding the ring out to him.

He looked up from removing his boots for a moment before returning his attention to the previous task. "I found it in the possession of a dead man."

Brigid grimaced, she hesitated to continue holding a dead man's ring. "What did you plan to do with it?"

Ezio shrugged, slightly irritated. "I planned to sell it for bullets."

Brigid gasped and clutched the trinket to her breast. "You'll do no such thing!"

He raised a brow at her before standing to his full height, towering over her. "What does it matter to you?"

She stood her ground. "You can't treat such a special symbol so carelessly."

"Symbol?"

Brigid held the ring up, giving him a better view of the shining metal. Two hands clasped on either side a single polished heart with an intricate crown over the heart. "Where I come from," She dropped it into his palm. "This is a symbol of love and loyalty. It is worn by two friends or exchanged on the day of a lover's wedding."

"Hmm," He studied the ring in a new light, Brigid felt satisfied to have told another of her homeland's symbol and brought a piece of her culture to another. The satisfaction, however, was crushed a moment later. "And how much do you think it would fetch?"

She snatched the ring from his grasp, resisting the urge to box his ears. "If you try to sell it, I promise it'll fetch a lonely night in bed and a knot on your head."

As a result of the threat Ezio glared down at her. Brigid payed no mind and turned to the desk before picking up one of his throwing knives. "Maybe this will give it more value to you." She carved into the heart the symbol she saw emblazened on all the banners throughout this building. Blowing away the metallic dust and smiling at her work, Brigid turned and gave the ring back to him. He looked down at it with a half-smile.

"Why are you trying so hard to make me keep this?" He put the ring down on the desk.

"I suppose I want to know that you can find value enough in small things to see them as keepsakes. Especially Irish things." She added with a sly smirk and allowed her natural accent to come through.

Ezio took the ring up again and strode across to the fireplace, dropping the silver trinket on the mantel. "Does this satisfy you?"

Brigid shrugged. "It'll have to do. Display is almost as good as wearing it."

He chuckled, taking a seat on a couch. "Strange that you ask sanctuary of me, and begin making changes the moment you arrive."

She eyed his slightly unkempt beard. "You could use a woman's touch. I'm doing you a kindness."

Ezio opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a knock on his door. His eyes went from the door to Brigid. She scoffed. "It isn't my door to answer." She laughed.

He stood and crossed the room, laughing quietly to himself while Brigid made herself comfortable on the chaise.

She heard the door creak open and a gruff voice reply to Ezio's half hearted greeting.

"You destroyed Leonardo's blueprints _and_ the machine?" The stranger asked, obviously angry.

"Yes, to keep out of the Borgia's hands." He answered, waving the newcomer to enter.

Brigid straightened her back, instinctively putting up her cool, impassive facade. The man spared her a single glance before returning to Ezio.

"With that machine we could have devestated Cesare's forces." He scolded.

Brigid found the stranger's appearence rather out of the ordinary. Short, cropped hair and exceptionally dark skin, the lines of his face suggested a long life but his movements and demeanor spoke otherwise. His sharp tongue told Brigid to mind her manners or suffer a scolding rebuttal. Were these two... _brothers_? It certainly seemed that way. Brigid resigned herself to silent guessing rather than accidentally make a fool of herself.

"How would you have brought the machine here without leading the Borgia to our doorstep?" Ezio snipped.

"The blueprints then would have been helpful." The harsh man was losing his temper now.

"I would wager there was another copy somewhere." Brigid slapped her hand over her mouth, berating herself for her lack of control. The words continued to spill through her fingers. "In fact, I know there are several workshops located throughout the wealthy districts distributing hand held cannons to all Cesare's men. They're not well guarded and rely only on secrecy to avoid detection, it's likely Leonardo is either working in one of them or has at least one copy of the schematics or blueprints hidden away for such occassions."

The two men stopped and stared at her. Each eye narrowed and more than likely suspecting her for an enemy. "And how would _you_," _A whore_, Brigid silently filled in what he meant. "Know these things?" The older one towered over her, she could see a dagger on his belt. She sincerely did not wish to meet it.

"I'm no Templar agent," Brigid spat. "I merely observe and analyze the conflicts from an _unbiased_ stand point. I am no threat to you, your cause, or your order."

His gaze softened slightly, Ezio's eye flashed a brilliant gold before fading away just as quickly as it came. Brigid dismissed it as a play of fire light. "She's no enemy," He assured his friend.

"Thank you," She bowed her head as he turned away from her. "If I may be so bold as to ask: Who are you?"

Ezio motioned to the man. "Niccolo Machiaveli. He runs the order for the most part."

Brigid almost choked on her gasp, standing from the chaise and touching her fingertips to her forehead, a sign of great respect and honor in her homeland. "I had no idea!" She paused to pull her crimson skirt down from where the hem caught on her knee. "I've read so much of your work. I have so much to discuss with you."

Niccolo regarded her with a slight air of distaste. Brigid looked down at herself, bare arms and breasts barely covered in her constricting red corset while her silk skirt still left nothing to the imagination as to the curve of her hips and legs. "Forgive me," She wrapped her arms around herself, an attempt to cover her cleavage. "My line of work is not the most honorable."

"There is nothing to forgive. We work closely with courtesans." He replied softly.

Brigid nodded. "Yes I know. That is one of the many things I must speak to you about."

Ezio cleared his throat. She turned to him, brow raised. "Yes?"

"Perhaps I should be included in this discussion?"

Brigid looked at him with surprised eyes. "Why is that? Naturally these things should spoken of in confidence with the man who is in charge here."

Niccolo put a hand on her shoulder, "Ezio is of high standings among us. He should be included."

She shivered at the contact. "If you say so."

Niccolo's hand retracted and Brigid masked a sigh at the loss. "It is late. I should go. We shall talk more tomorrow."

Brigid nodded. "I need a nights rest."

Ezio showed Niccolo to the door and Brigid strode to bedroom, allowing the men to speak amongst themselves. Her eyes wondered the room and she saw no wardrobe or any indicator of any storage of clothing. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out knots and undoing the braids that remained. Once satisfied with the nature of her hair, she stood and undid the fastens of her skirt, folding the fabric up neatly and adjusting the lace fabric of her undermost garment to cover her sex more completely. Her back turned to a mirror, she craned her neck to see the ties binding her corset and struggled to pull them apart. A pair of hands grasped her shoulders and turned Brigid around, she faced Ezio, his hands expertly pulling away the ties.

"Thank you," Brigid smiled.

He returned the gesture and stepped away, allowing her to pull the corset off at her leisure. Holding the fabric in place, she picked up his discarded shirt. "I suppose you have no use of this at the moment."

His upper body exposed, Ezio sat on the bed with only his trousers on and shook his head. Brigid tossed away the corset and slid the white shirt on. "I have to wonder," She sat down on the floor before the fireplace. "Where do your recruits sleep at night? I assume they have their own rooms. Why not let me live among your apprentices as one of them?"

He rubbed at a knot on his shoulder. "The recruits live in their respective homes and report to us in the morning for training and assignments."

"Hmm... I don't mind sharing this space with you all that much, either." She added.

He smirked at her, his eyes roaming her form. Brigid smiled, standing and moving to straddle his lap while she kissed his neck tenderly.

"The advantages of giving a courtesan sanctuary." A chuckle rumbled in his throat.

ooo000OOO000ooo

Desmond let out a strained groan before hauling himself out of the Animus, out of 'Baby's reach.

"Take it easy," Rebecca cautioned.

Desmond pressed his face into his hands. "Yeah,"

He kept his eyes shut tight, fearing he might open them and find himself back in Ezio's room, an Irish prostitute in his arms. The synthetic orange glow of the floodlights irritated his sight and furthured the migraine which began to throb in the back of his skull.

"Well, don't you seem to have all the _pleasurable_ memories today?" Shaun said with a sarcastic smirk.

"Not right now, Shaun." Desmond almost begged.

"You look more like you were struck by a bus rather than spending a long night with a beautiful woman." The brit pressed.

Desmond brushed the man off, ignoring him and standing up to stretch. His back protested once before giving one loud crack. While twisting his neck he could see the unchanging eyes of numerous statues, their gazes unwavering and impassive but still suited their features as if they were as cold and humorlous in life as they are now in death.

Lucy looked up from her computer for a moment, then returned to her work. "You should get some rest. It'll be dawn soon."

Desmond took a step and paused, struggling to regain his equilibrium or risk falling. _If I wanted the room to spin I would get piss drunk._ He thought sourly. "I think I'll take a walk, maybe it'll make me feel better."

"Just be back before light." She sighed.

"Sure thing,"

He tread up the stairs, massaging his temples and willing away the migraine aching in his head. Just ahead, in the crumbling foyer of the Auditore Villa, Desmond detected a light source. His feet moved lightly while he pressed against the wall, keeping his shadow out of any line of sight beyond the mouth of the corridor. The unsteady illumination and warm glow told him it was by candle the room was awakened. He would bet no Abstergo employee would search this place with a few candles, not with their cutting edge technology. He got the nagging fear that he was seeing one of Ezio's memories manifested into his waking world. He ventured a few steps closer to the foyer and heard the distinct scratching of a pencil on paper. _A tourist?_ He wondered.

Desmond risked a peek around the corner and spotted a small mountain of candles near the eastern wall. The light presented a feminine silhoutte, long hair slightly messy as if it was frustratedly pulled at often. Before the figure was the shattered remnants of a wall, large pieces of bricks missing and exposed to the elements by centuries past cannon fire, only now providing a foothold for a network of ivy to grow and thrive. The candle's light against the deep green of the leaves created a pleasing atmosphere, he could see why an artist wanted to render this scene.

"Come near me and I will taze your ass," A strong feminine voice shattered the silence.

"I didn't know you- uhh,"

"Knew you were spying?" She filled in.

Desmond rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Her head lifted slightly, he could hear a snicker. "I could ask you the same thing. Not many _normal_ people just hang out in Assassin ruins late at night for nothing."

"Who are you?" His tone was sharp now, it seemed his safety could be comprimised.

"You can call me," She turned sharply to him, green eyes blazing and hands moving dramatically around her head. "The night owl!"

His expression screamed _Are you kidding me?!_ She cracked a grin. "I'm joking. Be chill, bro. I'm Brianag. Fucked up, I know. You'll have to excuse my twisted humor, I don't get out much and I'm losing my social graces."

"Bree-nag?" He repeated her name.

"Not _nag_ like how women make men kill themselves. It's a between an O sound and an A. Like Bree-nog. But harder." She turned back to her drawing. "It's an old Irish/Celtic name. It means 'servant of Brigit'. I got lucky, though. My brother's name is Gormal; 'Blue eyes'. The MacMannus family has never had it easy in high school."

"MacMannus?"

Brianag rolled her eyes and impersonated Foghorn Leghorn. "Uh, yessir, uh, that's what ah said."

"You don't have an ancestor named Br-"

She cut him off."I think it's kind of weird that you're wanting to know all this stuff about me but I don't even know your name."

"Desmond Miles." He said meekly.

"Awesome, it's a pleasure to meet you. I have two questions for you, I require at least five words in your response. One: What are you doing in the ruins of an old Assassin stronghold this late at night and two: Are you normally this silent or am I just so awesome that you can't even speak?"

Desmond held up five fingers and counted the words off on one hand. "It's. None. Of. Your. Business."

She laughed out loud and turned to face him. Desmond could instantly see the similiarities in the curve of her lips as she smiled, even the flash of mirth in her green eyes. "And the other question?"

"You're. Not. That. Cool."

A pencil whistled through the air, narrowly missing his head. "That was four words, Einstien!"

"Bitch." He added with a smirk.

"Much better."

The two shared a smile and Brianag closed her sketch book, leaving on the dusty floor as she stood. "So are you a fan of the Assassin legend or...?"

"Pardon?" He debated whether he should play dumb or not.

She gave him a disbelieving look and pointed a foot towards the symbol built into the once pristine white marble floor. "Their symbol is everywhere in here. You can't miss it unless your blind or dumb." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'd believe both."

Desmond shot her a glare. "I'm joking, that's my humor. Y'know, I fully expect you to rank on me as well."

"How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen and three quarters!" She smiled, her voice suddenly took on the high pitch of a toddler.

He chuckled. "And what are you doing here so late at night?"

She drew a dramatic breath. "You're not gonna believe thiiiiiiis."

"I'm listening."

"I'm a vampire. I can only come here at night because the sun burns me alive in minutes."

He shot her another glare. "Bullshit."

"Yeah, you're right. But only, like, the first part. The sun really does burn me alive. I was born with extreme photosensitivity, anything brighter than these candles will make me have blisters and burns. It _suuuucks_!"

"I think I've heard of that." Desmond admited.

"Probably. But it's rare, and it makes it so hard for me to keep up this bitchin' tan." She motioned to her pasty complexion. "And I'm thrilled as all living hell that I burn under the sun instead of sparkling."

Desmond laughed heartily at that, having found the entire Twilight saga an abortion in text form himself.

"Ah, that's what I was looking for. I love it when I make someone laugh." She sat down on the ground again and pulled a bulky messenger bag towards her. "Pop a squat, kiddo." She shot him a smile. Rather uncertain, Desmond sat down beside her. She withdrew two square, wooden boxes and deposited one in front of him before dropping a pair of chopsticks on top of the box.

"You hungry?" She asked, pulling off the top and revealing an assortment of exceedingly asian foods.

The customary answer of 'I don't have an appetite' on his tongue, he paused. "Sure, thanks." He picked up the chopsticks and opened his own bento box.

Brianag swallowed her mouthful of sweet dumpling before speaking. "I don't usually offer food to strangers."

"I don't usually accept any food from strangers." He added.

"Well, you look really hungry and skinny. Dip those noodles in that sauce, I'm telling you it's an orgasm in your mouth." She took a bite of tuna sushi.

Desmond sampled the noodles and found his appetite returning with a vengeance. Lucy would be proud, she'd been admonishing him for his lack of sustainance intake these last few weeks.

"You don't seem like the killing type anyway." He left out the bright blue she emenated at the times his eagle vision tuned in and out.

"If the time calls for it I can be." She shrugged. "But you look more friend than foe. Really, I'm surprised you haven't seen me lurking around here before. I come here almost every night."

"What makes you think I would be here every night?"

"I recognize your voice. I've heard your screams often. So I'm guessing you're homeless and suffer from night terrors?"

Desmond nearly choked on a dumpling.

Brianag continued. "But you don't smell or look like a homeless person. What's your deal, bro?"

_Are kids really saying that again?_ "I'm doing some work down in the catacombs with a few friends. We just stay here for the most part during the renovation. I have night terrors, you're right about that."

Brianag set her chopsticks down and looked him square in the eyes, studying him for a moment, her nostrils flared and she smirked to herself. "I smell bullshit."

Desmond shrugged and changed the subject. "Where'd you get this food? I doubt bento boxes and asian food is as popular here as it is in America." He noticed her accent and slang.

Brianag let the subject go. "My aunt, the closest relative I have in this country is real multi-cultural. Every night she makes me a different meal from around the world. Tonight was Japan."

"And you happened to be carrying an extra serving?" He questioned skeptically.

"I have a big appetite, I'll one of them as my 'breakfast' and peck on the other at random times."

"Well, I guess I should thank you," He popped another dumpling in his mouth.

"Maybe, yeah." She smiled. "Oh, be careful. This food'll fill you up way fast. You could end up sick."

Desmond paused from taking another bite of noodles. "Thank you,"

"Any time. To be honest; I really enjoy the company. It's been years since I've had a conversation with someone that exceeded five minutes. My therapist will be thrilled."

"Likewise." Desmond agreed with a grin.

"Ow! God that hurts!" Brianag dropped her box and clutched the back of her neck.

"What's wrong?" Desmond leaned forward, checking her for any blood, any sign of injury.

"My neck burns!" She hissed through gritted teeth. "What time is it?"

"I-I dunno." He looked up through the window behind her, the first light of dawn was staining the sky and a few rays slipped through the dirty glass. "It's dawn." He peeled away her hand, and saw the burns and blisters forming on her skin.

"I lost track of time." She covered her face with her arms and nearly fell over herself while trying to get away from the light.

Desmond pulled away his hoodie and shaded her. "I can't make it home." She almost cried. "Not when it's this bright." She pulled the fabric of his spared clothing around her arms and face while curling up to cover her bare legs.

"Maybe you can-" Desmond's sentenced was cut off by a shrill scream. The light breaking through the window reflected off a mirror Brianag used in her drawing and the refracted illumination hit her right leg. Already the skin was turning red and splitting. Desmond kicked the mirror away and scooped Brianag up before bolting for the darkened corridor. Brianag let out long, low growls of pain, clutching her leg and taking breaths in shallow pants. Desmond set her on the cool stone and jogged back to the foyer to gather up her things, tossing them in her bag and carrying it to Brianag. She accepted the bag gratefully.

"Give it to me straight, doc. How bad is it?"

He glanced at the smallest of her burns. "Your neck doesn't look all that bad to me," He didn't want to touch her leg for fear of causing more pain. "But I'd compare your leg to a hot dog left in the microwave for too long."

"Well, fuck me! I couldn't see that for myself." She spat sarcastically. "I'm sorry, it just hurts."

"Don't worry about it. I'll get you some help. Just wait here." He took off down the stairs, making for the catacombs to bring Lucy. Maybe Shaun... _Maybe_.

"Where the fuck else am I gonna go?" Her voice echoed behind him.

Desmond skidded to a halt in front of Shaun's desk, barely panting. "Where's Lucy?"

"Good morning to you too." Shaun replied.

"I don't have the time for your shit. Where is she?"

"I did not hear please."

"Shaun!"

"Fine, she's just gone to bed. I don't recomend waking her." The blonde turned back to his work.

"What about Rebecca?"

"Out for a run. You've got only me. What is it?"

"Do we have anything for burns?"

Shaun sighed. "Yes, we do, Desmond. But you would know where it is if you had listened to me in the first meeting." He stood and removed a large medkit from an otherwise barren table before thrusting it into Desmond's hands. "Let's see what damage you've done this time."

Brianag looked up to Shaun and Desmond approaching, a few strands of noodles hanging from her lips. She quickly swallowed her food and greeted the two. "Hey, you came back."

"You're still eating?" Desmond squatted next to her.

"Food solves all my problems." She took a bite of rice.

"Where do you put it all?" He watched her scarf the rest of her box and pat her stomach.

"My unhealthy sleep schedeul keeps my weight nearly below where I need to be. I have to eat a lot of starches and carbohydrates to stay alive. That and I _love_ lo mein!"

"No, I'm only medically trained and certified. I don't require any introduction at all. Please continue speaking as if I'm not here." Shaun snarked, setting the medkit down.

"This is Shaun, he'll be patching you up." Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Cool beans." Brianag waved to Shaun then raised her leg. "I've got a real creep fest for you."

"Lovely." He sighed and set to work on her burns. "I'm sure it doesn't matter all that much but, what did you do to get these injuries?"

Brianag shrugged. "Well, there's this big ass bear, right? And I'm like, 'come on, bear. I gotta get home.' but he whipped out this lighter and a gallon of gas and just torched my ass. But I used my bitchin' ninja skills to fight him off. Right before I slayed him, he spoke to me in Morgan Freeman's voice 'the juice is loose!' and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke... true story, bro."

"I'm sorry I asked." Shaun shook his head, still disinfecting the burns.

"She has a severe photo sensitivity. She was burned when the sun came up." Desmond filled in.

"I've heard of that."

"Probably," Brianag smiled. "I hate to rush you, doc but it's getting a little too bright in here. My arm is starting to burn."

"Hold on one moment." Shaun pulled the gauze tight around her calf and secured it. "Let's get you downstairs."

Brianag stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder and smiled before holding a hand out towards the stairs. "Lead the way."

The deja vu her movements caused allowed the eagle vision to take hold in Desmond's mind. It was only a few seconds, but he could see Brigid standing, proud and strong beside Brianag. Arm outstretched to the path ahead and bidding Desmond and Ezio both to lead the way.

ooo000OOO000ooo

Brigid turned on her side, gathering the remnants of warmth from the blankets before rising to meet the morning chill that had pestered her for hours. The fire had long ago died away and Brigid lacked the conviction to get up and stoke it. She stretched, pulling her arms high above her head and groaning contentedly. Five finger-like bruises ached deliciously in the flesh of her hips, shoulders and thighs, she looked at the marks with a sense of pride. In retrospect she could see that Ezio's grip was perhaps a little too hard, but at the time she nearly screamed. Where was the man now? She didn't have a clue. But the body-shaped indention and residual body heat told her he wasn't far away.

Still wearing nothing but her skin, Brigid rose from the bed and set to work bringing the flames back to life. With heat once again returning to the room, she stood to her full height and looked out over the cityscape. Ezio's room was situated high in the building and provided a breathtaking view of early morning Rome. Brigid leaned against the window sill, arms bearing her weight as she searched the scene for the ancient ruins which blended seamlessly into the modern life and structure of the city today. A streak of white and crimson bolted over a wall and between two buildings before disappearing from her view. Shortly after, a group of men, obviously persuing, turned the corner before angrily leaving the way they came. Brigid smiled to herself. It seemed obvious only to herself that Cesare was fighting a losing battle against those who gave her sanctuary.

Two sharp raps at the door sent Brigid running to the bedroom, snatching Ezio's discarded shirt off the floor and pulling it over her head, tugging at the hem to cover her pubis. She pulled the door open slightly, keeping her body hidden behind the wooden barrier. "Yes?"

"You wished to speak to me." Brigid jumped slightly at the sound of Niccolo's voice.

"As I recall you wanted to have a word with me as well." She offered a friendly smile. "Ah, I'm not entirely decent. If you'd be so kind as to count to ten after I shut the door before you enter, I would greatly appreciate it."

An eyebrow was raised but no protests were given. "If that is what you require."

"Thank you," Brigid pushed the door shut and raced to the bedroom, mentally counting down from ten.

She had only just begun to scour the room for clothing when she heard the door open and creak shut.

"I offer my sincerest apologies," She called, searching desperately for any form of clothing. "For my current indecency, I mean."

She could hear him clear his throat in the other room. "It's alright, Brigid."

"Ah, forgive me, but Ezio has left me deprived of clothes. Save for this single shirt."

Brigid began to consider using the bed sheets as a toga when a hand came into her view, the fabric of a white dress clutched between the tanned digits. "I found this on the chaise."

Out of respect, Niccolo's head was turned away while his arm held the simple dress out to her. Brigid accepted it gratefully and set to work in dressing.

"You mentioned workshops throughout the city." He began.

"Yes, I did." Brigid adjusted the sleeves and began tightening the fastens. "But I have to speak to you about the brothel you work so closely with before anything else." She smoothed down the slitted skirt and braided her hair loosely, letting it rest over her right shoulder.

"What of it?"

Brigid stepped out of the bed chamber and casually draped herself across the chaise. "Their true standings aren't a secret anymore. Those girls are in danger."

His head turned sharply to her. "Explain,"

"It's no complicated thing. Vatican officials, Borgia officers, foreign allies, all of them visit and all of them divulge information, then the Assassins just so happen to move accordingly. If a prostitute like me can see it, Cesare is three steps ahead and already planning to shut their mouths. Permanently."

"That does present a problem." He agreed.

"There is some good news to be had." Brigid offered a smile. " In an effort to be more cautious, the more important men have begun to visit the brothel where I am employed. I have a great deal of information and plans stored in my chest tucked away in the Scarlet Willow. Assuming the Borgia hasn't taken it into their possession. But a venture to the brothel would be well worth the risk."

"I will be the judge of that." Niccolo snapped.

"Indeed you will," She tucked her legs under her. "Perhaps you would risk it for the location of an ancient artifact stolen from you?"

"You know the location of the Piece of Eden?" He demanded, arms on either side of Brigid's head while he towered over her. "You will tell me, _now_."

Brigid shot to her feet, knocking Niccolo away as she clenched her fists. "I will not be bullied! If you want something from me, I'll need something from you!"

"You are in no position to negotiate." He hissed.

"I have an excellent bargaining chip." She disagreed.

He took a moment to compose himself, straightening up and becoming calm once more. "Our search fares well on its own. Your information is not needed."

Brigid shrugged and crossed one elegant porcelain leg over the other. "Regardless, my offer stands." _Though you allow gender and occupation to stand in your way._

"It is appreciated."

The notion of sincerity in his words escaped Brigid. Her eyes watched his movements, observed the stoic manner Niccolo carried himself, almost as if he wouldn't allow himself a moment to relax and unwind. Brigid was sure he slept as stiffly as he stood.

He opened his mouth to pose a question, only to be cut off by an abrupt querie from the Irish woman. "When was the last time you took a woman to your bed?"

Niccolo nearly gaped at her. "That is a most inapropriate question."

"Perhaps. But finding a polite way to ask such a thing would take far too long. Minutes in life are precious and propriety wastes that invaluable time. I don't demand an answer if you feel you _must_ shy away." She raised a brow in challenge.

He stiffened considerably, Brigid could see the gloved fingers behind his back grip each other tightly. He was indeed uncomfortable. "Three years," He answered simply, but his tone made one believe he was just forced to swallow pins.

Brigid let out a few peals of delicate laughter, a single petite hand pressed to her mouth. "Do you so loath answering any personal questions?"

"Yes, I do." His tone seemed short now.

She motioned to the couch, rich maroon fabric alight from the streams of sunshine through the only open window in the room. "Have a seat, please."

A distrustful look was sent her way before Niccolo stepped over and sat down. Brigid rose from the chaise and took a place beside him, a comfortable distance away.

"How long have you bore the weight of the the order?" She asked cautiously.

He stared straight ahead as his shoulders seemed to relax minutely. "Not long."

"Forgive me for saying so, but it seems you're far too stressed for your own good."

His sharp eyes bore into her's and Brigid nonchalantly turned her gaze away from his to stare into the flames of the warm hearth just a few paces before her. Without eye contact with Niccolo, Brigid posed another querie.

"Are you happy?"

"Who are you to judge?" Came his response.

She shook her head. "I have no intention of judging you, at all. I only wonder if you are happy."

"I," He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and drawing a deep breath. "Always thought my position in life would differ greatly from where it is now."

"So, you are not?" Brigid turned to him and leaned forward, only slightly. "What stops you from putting things right? Getting where you want to be?"

"Responsibilities." Niccolo's voice was laced with malice.

"Do not speak to as if I am a child, don't talk to me like I'm below you." Brigid snapped. "You're a brilliant man, I don't understand why you would allow yourself to labor under these weights when it could be helped."

Niccolo's shoulders slumped minutely. "Some must suffer for the greater good."

"What's this?" A mischevious grin crossed Brigid's features. "Is Ser Machiavelli a hypocrite?"

He shot her a sharp look which was met with a light hearted grin. "Do you not teach that men are vile creatures that will harm another when ever given the chance? Why would a being of that nature allow himself to suffer for others? Or is there a greater reward for you?"

"There is a great reward."

"And that would be?"

"The continuation of man's free will," His eyes held a small amount of passion. Enough for Brigid to tell that he believed in the cause with all his heart. "The preservation of all we know."

Brigid leaned back against the arm of the couch, her eyes still trained on the darkly dressed man. "I had no idea they were in danger."

"Few do. We find the mass ignorance is helpful to our cause."

"Have the Borgia considered the advantages to propaganda?"

For the first time Brigid watched Niccolo physically relax against the couch, if only a small amount. She appreciated the small display of comfort around her. "Yes, but we have taken steps to counteract such influences."

"I noticed they've taken to posting wanted posters across Rome on the rooftops. It seems they're rather desperate for public favor. Odd as they usually have such disregard for human rights."

Niccolo made a noise of acknowledgement. Brigid didn't expect him to speak much about Assassin affairs with an outsider.

"Well," She stood from the couch and brushed the folds from her skirt. "As much as I enjoy your company. I have to go out for a little while."

"Where?" His tone was sharp.

"If you won't help me get my chest back, I'll go and bring it back myself." Brigid slid on a pair of boots left beside the door and inwardly cursed at the small amount of excess room.

"If you leave these walls you will not be welcomed back."

She turned and questioned sharply. "You think me a traitor?"

"I have no reason to think otherwise."

"Then by all means," She motioned to the door. "Come with me."

Niccolo crossed the room and stepped out the door and into the hall. "I have too much work to oversee. I can't waste time attending to a woman."

He started down the hall and Brigid was left a fuming, livid mess. As Niccolo rounded the corner and set to assigning contracts, Brigid strode into the common area, passing Niccolo's desk with an exaggerated sway in her hips. She spared him no glance as she sat in the armchair, both her legs thrown over one arm and the dress falling away from her legs.

"Ah, this fire is so warm!" She sighed contentedly and watched the flames dance in the large walk-in fireplace. "But my chest gets no ventilation." Brigid quickly pulled apart the uppermost ties of the bodice, enough to give good view of her cleavage. "Much better," She moaned dramatically.

"Pay attention!" Niccolo's voice loudly snapped.

Brigid manuevered herself to kneel on the cushion of the armchair, her stomach pressing against the back while she pressed her breasts against the top and forcing the flesh to round greatly against the bonds of her undergarments. Niccolo scolded a very distracted recruit while assigning him his duties for the day.

"Take Emiliana with you. See to it you steal the clothing without detection and you both return _unscathed_. Our work leaves no room for recovery time unless necessary." Niccolo sternly instructed.

"Of course, maestro." The recruit nodded and turned his shoulder against Brigid to resist the temptation to stare.

"Your transportation is waiting for you now. Gather Emiliana and go immediately."

"I understand," The recruit's right hand was lightly pressed to the opposite breast and he turned on his heel to leave briskly.

Niccolo shot her a glare before returning to his desk and sorting through a stack of papers.

Echoing through the long hall was the sharp sound of a door opening and slamming home. Jovial voices filled the room and two robed men entered, one playfully pushing the other as they spoke of a succesful mission that nearly went awry. The taller of the two, a tanned man with a neatly kept mustache framing his mouth grinned and imitated a punching motion.

"The look on his face when you struck him and forced him into that filthy water!" He laughed.

"All goes well, then?" Niccolo questioned.

"Yes, maestro. The posters are all destroyed." Brigid detected his Spanish accent.

"Good. The two of you are to stay here and assist Ezio should he need it."

The two men groaned lightly but offered no protests. "Get rested, return here as soon as possible."

Agreements were given and the hoods were pushed back. Brigid stood and leaned against the arch leading into a room filled with all manners of displayed armor, her arms crossed under her breasts and pushing them upwards shamelessly. The taller recruit turned her direction, his eyes snapping to Brigid. She offered a smile and stood up straight.

"Sleep well," She added a small, petite giggle.

The recruit approached and leaned casually on one arm against the wall beside Brigid. "I'm sure I will, with thoughts of you in my head." He smirked down at her.

Brigid coyly looked down and feigned embarassment, looking up at him through her lashes. "You must have quite a comfortable bed to sleep well with any thought of a girl like me in your mind."

"I can't quite remember. Maybe you should tell me how comfortable my bed is." He offered with a sly grin.

"I would be a liar to say I have not thought about it." Brigid responded expertly to his inuendo.

"We must have a talk," Niccolo had a firm grasp of Brigid's wrist and pulled her into the other room while motioning to the other man to leave with his free hand.

"Let me go!" Brigid hissed and jerked her hand free.

"You will stop distracting the recruits." He warned. "You will go upstairs and stay there, out of our way and you will remain there quietly. Any disobedience will get you tossed out onto the street. Do you understand?"

"You threaten me?" Brigid squared her shoulders.

"It's no difficult feat to silence you." His fingers tapped the hilt of his dagger.

In a bout of bravery, she slapped his gloved hand away from the weapon. "Your threats are empty."

"You're not foolish enough to believe that, Brigid."

Brigid stepped closer to him, one hand tugging at his collar and the other tracing light circles on his hip. "I believe you like it when I disobey you. I believe you enjoy it when I defy your ideas of what a woman should be. My erotic behaviour just now was pleasing to you, enough to unnerve you. Accept it, Niccolo."

His eyes met her's evenly, he remained completely motionless. "Get away from me."

Brigid craned her neck to line her face with his and brought their lips dangerously close. "You hate it that I'm right. You just can't stand this simple admition. But you know it. Why else would you let me stand like this with you?"

His hands clutched her shoulders and held her at arms length. "You are a harlot, a prostitute. I would never involve myself with you."

Brigid moved away from him with a smirk. "And here we find the root of your troubles. Until you can look below the surface of a person, your view of our world will forever be incorrect. Come speak to me when you want to change that." Without another word, she retreated up the stairs and back to the chambers.

Brigid idly sat on the window sill, her legs dangling over the edge and her heels tapping the wall every once in a while. One shoulder was resting against the wall while her fingers picked at loose stones that came loose from the thick bricks. Hours passed, Brigid paced the room and racked her brain for any way to pass the time. She was thrilled when the time came for the sun to dip below the horizon. She quietly closed the windows tight and tossed another log on the fire before settling into the couch to wait for something exciting to happen, anything to put an end to this monotony. Footsteps approached from down the hall and Brigid sat up. Ezio entered the room, a large chest in his arms, Brigid bolted from the couch and lifted the wooden container from his grasp.

"How did you find this? I thought I would never see it again!" She grinned broadly and dropped the chest on the floor.

"A small group of Borgia gaurds were carrying it to the Papal Apartments. I would assume to force it open. It appears unharmed. You're very fortunate." He tapped the box's lid and stood behind Brigid to watch her open it.

She snatched an arrow from the quiver she left beside the door and used the thin metal to force the tumblers open. Still grinning, Brigid swung the lid open and froze in place.

The oak chest was completely bare. Not a single scrap of paper or journal was left inside.

"Is it normally this empty?" Ezio questioned.

"No. All my work is gone. You say they hadn't opened the chest at all?"

He shook his head. "As far as I could see. I found them carrying it out of the brothel and relieved them of the burden."

Furious, Brigid slammed the lid shut. "Those bastards! Madam Olivetti was the only one with a key, they must have stolen it from her." A stone of guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. "I hope they didn't harm her. I couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for her being hurt because of me."

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Ezio reassured her.

"Well, there's nothing I can do to help her now. Not from here. Worse than that; I can't fathom the damage any Borgia captain could inflict with that information. Many people are sure to suffer for my poor judgement." Brigid pushed her face into her hands.

Ezio shifted on his feet, "Cesare is sure to do greater damage."

The courtesan sat back on her heels. "It'll be a good while before any of these sheets get near Castel Sant'angelo. These Borgia captains are ambitious men, they're sure to recognize an opportunity to ascend the ranks when one presents itself."

"Then we have hope of retrieving them," Ezio strode to a small stack of boxes in the corner of the room and snatched a map from the top container before spreading it across the desk top. "So far I've managed to liberate all but Vaticano district from Borgia influence. The Assassin's have mantained a steady foothold in every other district. If your notes are as detailed as you say, our forces will be strategically contested and, if we were not aware of this theft, dismantled. We will act before the Borgia captains have an opportunity to make a place for themselves in any liberated district."

"Yes. Despite your removal of each captain from the districts, replacements have been elected and I've observed they are more than eager to make a name for themselves. I'm sure you've realized," Brigid stood and joined Ezio's side at the desk. "You've become a symbol of liberty to the people, and you will need their support to win this war. Cesare knows this and he's sure to launch a campaign against your integrity. Continue to provide freedom and rights once robbed of them by Borgia to the people and you will become immortal in their eyes and all the more lofty of an opponent to the Templars. Your cause will gather momentum and I'm sure all of Roma will turn against her opressors, then the world will be much better for it."

"Your optimism is much welcomed." Ezio patted her back once before turning away to speak with Niccolo.

"Ezio," Brigid caught him by the wrist, he turned to face her and Brigid gathered her courage to brush back his hood to better look him in the eyes. "The world will see your efforts and accomplishments. Win this battle against the Borgia and all world will see the power may be in wealth and status, but more lies still in the people's hands. Your cause will spread like wildfire and the Templars will be overthrown. Though we may not live to see it, I know it will happen. I believe it, but I need you to believe it as well."

Brigid's hand still held Ezio's wrist, his fingers curled gently around her own. "I do believe it. Thank you, Brigid." With that he turned and left the room, Brigid stood there a moment and listened to the sound of his muted footsteps down the hall.

"A woman after my own heart." The new voice made Brigid jump and whirl around. Brigid's own green eyes were met with violet irises, slightly shaded by the ever-present earth toned hood.

Brigid put a steadying hand against the desk and gave a breathy laugh, "There is a fox among us,"

**A/N: I know this seems like a weird place to end the chapter but I know I've kept you waiting long enough. I was going to end it during the present with more expansion on Brianag and Desmond. But it'll have to do for an opening bit in the next chapter. Thank you for being so incredibly patient. As a meager excuse for why it took so long to update, my laptop came down with a racist virus. I can only assume it was racist because when I tried to write it would key the letter K until you turned the computer off. Now that everything is (hopefully) resolved I should be pumping out regular updates. I would like to say that I'm trying to avoid a Mary-Sue pitfall, which I'm sure we are all sick to death of. And if you think Brigid might be falling into that category I would like to point out the steps I have taken to avoid this. In most Mary-Sues characteristics are the the character is very beautiful but rejects her feminine side and does her best to seem like a man until a romantic scene comes along then all of a sudden she's one hundred percent in touch with her feminine side. Also this character will have a very rare talent, usually the Mary-Sue is good with swords and comes from a tragic past that she will eagerly share or not share at all and is the reason this Mary-Sue got so good with weapons in the first place, also the Mary-Sue will be a direct connection to the writer who is trying to write themselves into the story (And into the arms of the protagonist) along with what they wish they had a talent for (singing and dancing is another big Mary-Sue give away). Also the male character will recognize the beauty in the Mary-Sue and often fall instantly in love with her.**

**Brigid is very connected with her feminine side and relies on her seduction skills to get what she wants (or kills when she needs to) rather than the classic Mary-Sue who uses brute strength when a real woman would have little. Her weapon of choice is a bow and arrow, classic to her people and keeps her enemies at a safe distance, and a dagger, this weapon is easy to handle and not nearly as heavy as a sword which any normal woman would have trouble lifting. The only reason she keeps a sword is to honor is a family heirloom. Rather than strength she relies on agility and stealth. Ezio is in no way in love with her, we all know this womanizer is always eager for a nail-and-bail or even a friends with benefits arrangement. Brigid is okay with this as well. All in all, I just want to make sure no one goes accusing me of creating another (LANGUAGE WARNING!) goddamn Mary-Sue. I'll get off my soapbox now. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. I'll keep my author's notes short from now on. Just want to give a shout out to JinxH for adding Lions and Men to his/her Favorites list. Many much thanks, JinxH. I don't expect to have much more momentum since I had to wait such an obscenely long time to finish the last chapter and longer still to post it, urgh! But hopefully we'll leave that in the past. Anyway, let's jump right in to chapter two and thus into the future/present. Depending on your vantage point. Also, the present time will be told in first person to kind of pull you more into Brianag's head. I'm not sure if I'll do the same with Brigid but I'll let you know if I do. Oh, and before I forget, this fic will reach back to the first Assassin's Creed and as far ahead as Assassin's Creed: Revelations, you'll see how it all works out. All of the aforementioned franchises I have no ownership of. And buckle up, this is gonna be a long one. Now let's get started... for realsies.**

Chapter Three

A Real Fox in the Hen House

_**Ni feidirach Dia breithiunas orm.**_

_**Ta Faic Fior**_

_**Ta Sac Rud Ceadate**_

I stood at the base of the stairs in the Auditore Villa's catacombs. No, the Sanctuary. That's what it was called. Supressing the ocassional yawn, I watched the shadows and shafts of light move across the worn and weathered stones.

"It'll be dark soon," Lucy gave me an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Then you can head home."

I offered a tired smile and watched the blonde return to her gajillion dollar computer. I had to wonder which was worth more; the computer or the information it contained? During my time in hiding from the sun, Lucy had given me the vaguest of breifs as to why they too were hiding in the Sanctuary. That effectively dispelled Desmond's Renovation Ruse. All I knew so far was this band of misfits and sci-fi brought to life contraption were working to stop some evil corporation of autocrats from buying the world and makind itself, all the while making Hitler's wet dreams a reality, my words not hers. I thought my friends and I were the nutty conspiricy theorists. To add frosting to the cake they kidnapped Desmond and strapped him into their own version of this Doo-dad, but with their diabolical schedule he didn't get many breaks which did a number on his mental health and that explained the screams I heard during my midnight ventures.

I glanced over my shoulder and watched Desmond lay still as the dead in the Animus. Every once in a while he would twitch, some times more violently than others but no one reacted to his movements and I could only guess it wasn't something to worry about. At random times Rebecca would startle me by calling for Lucy or Shaun to look at something on her screen. I was treading thin ice already and I didn't dare take a step towards the enormous machine she manipulated. Of course the sharp, distrustful glances from Shaun encouraged me to give all the machinery in the room a pretty fair berth whenever I moved about the Sanctuary. Leaving the stairs I walked in a wide circle to look up at the enormous statue of a hooded man. His pedestal was much larger than the others and really seemed to be the focal point of the Sanctuary. From the mossy and grime covered name plate at the base of the pedestal I could barely make out a name.

"Alt...air?" I wondered if his name was of some dead language for 'Alternative Air'.

"Altah-EER," Shaun corrected my atrocious pronounciation.

"It would have been nice if the person responsible for these name plates included phonetics." I flicked away more mystery gunk to better make out his last name and official title.

"Well, I'm sure they didn't count on uncultured Americans." He retorted.

_Ibn La'ahad? Is that Middle Eastern?_ I turned from the statue to Shaun. "I think you're bitter towards us because we won the war."

"Which war are we talking about exactly?" He sounded like he was gearing up for a lecture.

I crossed my arms over my chest, "The war that got started when the we threw down the gauntlet on July the fourth, 1776. We the people, bitch!"

"I won't dignify that with a response."

"I wouldn't either if I were you, redcoat. You're a little outnumbered here." Another sharp glare was sent my way and I replied with a smile.

I could hear Rebecca snicker and watched her shake her head from over the moniter. Soon after that I got bored with the statues and approached Desmond. If I didn't know better I honestly would have thought he was dead, when he wasn't twitching his eyes were moving erratically under his lids.

"Is he," I touched his hand gently, looking for the slightest hint of a pulse. "Having an out of body experience or something like that?"

Rebecca sat back from the moniter and cracked her knuckles. "It's more like an inner body experience. The animus takes his conscious deep into his genes. So it's a mega-inner-body experience, more or less."

"He's so deep in himself, he's inside someone else." I laughed at the oxymoron.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a paradox but it's the best way to put it. Anyway, I should get back to keeping track of him." She turned back to the screen and I plopped down on an empty chair beside Lucy's desk.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll see you out." Lucy called to me before slipping a file into a stacked cabinet.

"Sure thing." I leaned my forearms against my knees and let my head hang forward. What I wouldn't give for a nap right now. A cabinet slammed shut and my head shot up, startled. Lucy looked apologetically to me. "Sorry,"

"No worries." I waved it off.

A familiar image in the corner of my eye captured my attention. Sparing a glance of Rebecca's computer screen over her shoulder, I could make out the image of a woman holding a robed man by the wrist. I couldn't make out what she was saying to him, but it looked pretty damn important. I nearly jumped to my feet but restrained and tapped Rebecca lightly on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Yeah?" She slid her _very_ nice headphones away from her ears.

"Who is that?" I nodded at the woman on the screen.

"Brigid something-or-other. Hold on, I'll pull it out of the database." The image minimized into a small square and a larger screen took up most of the moniter. Along with a few paragraphs biography, there was a detailed image. She was nearly crouching behind a bed, bow and arrow in hand in a sloppy hunting pose, she was obviously caught in a rush. Her long brown hair and the few braids wherein were tossed in midair behind her, emphasizing her quick movements. The makeup on her face was smeared, especially around the lips and a red mark on her cheek looked like she had taken a fairly hard smack to the head. Her clothes were slutty to say the least, even by today's standards, but they looked like they had been pulled at a little roughly, I couldn't guess if she was getting frisky or knocked around when they were getting yanked.

"Brigid MacMannus," Rebecca read the name across the top of the page.

"Can I see a bigger picture?" I leaned in closer, eyes squinting.

"Yeah, I guess." She sounded a little hesitant.

The picture was enlarged and my heart nearly skipped a beat with excitement. "Holy crap! Do you know who that is?!" I jumped on my toes, trying to find some way to release all this excitement.

"A whore?" Shaun ventured to guess.

"Damn straight. She's also my ancestor! She lived as a very well known and popular prostitute in Italy before returning to Ireland under the name Rhiannon." I nearly squealed.

"My family keeps a collection of journals as far back as the first freaking crusades! My aunt keeps Brigid's journals on display in my house, starting from when she was a little girl here in Italy all the way up until she helped lead Ireland to the most prosperous times as an advisor to the nobles in her homeland. I must've read it a dozen times, while here in Italy she met an Assassin named Ezio. She didn't talk much about him but I know she had a bit of a crush on him until some big fight and he saved her life, after that they were like brother and sister. She traveled with Ezio to a place called Masyaf then to Constantinople where she married and had a kid with a guy name..." His name escaped me. "Crap, I can't remember. Give me a sec."

Lucy, Shaun and Rebecca looked at me with skeptical eyes. "Yocul? No that doesn't sound right. Yusuf! That's his name! She married him in secret and had a son with him. After he died she took her son and returned to Ireland where the MacMannus name stayed for a long ass time."

"That's very, ahem, interesting." Shaun turned away and back to his computer. "But if she returned to Ireland wouldn't her husband's name stay for a long period of time?"

"I had that same thought when I was reading the last pages of her journal," I kneeled beside my bag and removed a compisition book I use to jot down various notes. Flipping quickly to the correct page I read from the few facts I thankfully had remembered to write down. "But when I read it more thoroughly, in the first pages she makes mention of her four brothers still in Ireland. The oldest died in some skirmish with another clan and the youngest made a good living in Britain as a jeweler. But was tried and executed for sodomy, he wasn't very discreet in his homosexuality. Her surviving siblings carried on the family name, quite sucessfully all the way down to me, my brother and his son." That particular subject in the notebook ended at a list of Italian phrases I should remember to avoid another fiasco at the street vendor.

"That's quite a colorful tale. But I think I would rather have a look for myself." Shaun responded over his shoulder.

"Be my guest. I would love to have the validation of a historian." I shrugged and replaced the journal in my bag.

"Yeah, because I don't have enough work on my plate."

I scoffed. "You volunteered. Don't get pissed if I accept."

"Well, you're the one spinning colorful tales."

I thrust a hand towards Desmond. "It's more believable than a line of the world's greatest Assassins all rolled into one man."

"The animus proves his lineage. It's better than a few phony journals, yeah?" He smirked at me over his shoulder.

"When Desmond comes out for his break, I'll get in then. And I'll have the animus' proof, the first hand accounts of my ancestors' journal, and the satisfaction of proving you wrong."

"I hate to break this up," Lucy stepped in. "But you're going home soon. I don't think you'll have to opportunity to take a spin in the animus. Our agenda is tight enough as it is. There's no room for down time or anything other than progress towards our goal."

"Yeah, sorry," I shrugged. "It wasn't my place to impose on all of you like that."

"I'll see you out. The sun is down now, you're safe to move about without burning." Lucy picked up my bage and held it out to me, I accepted it gratefully.

"He's coming out," Rebecca broke in.

I secured the bag around my shoulder as I heard Desmond groan and turned to watch him sit up. "Get up slowly," She cautioned.

"I'm going outside," He groaned without looking up from his hands.

"We're heading the same direction. We'll walk with you." Lucy strapped something I couldn't discern to her hip.

"Alright," He stood up slowly and looked from me to my bag and back again. "Are you going home?"

"Yeah, I kinda out stayed my welcome." I laughed.

"Oh, I'll miss the conversation." He offered a weak smiled and started up the stairs, Lucy and I in tow.

At the top of the stairs Lucy slowed to a halt and turned to me. "We took a huge risk treating your injuries," She started very seriously. "Don't repay our kindness with treachery. You won't survive to talk about it. Believe me when I say we're monitoring your cell phone, home phone, and e-mail. We can watch everything you do on your computer and don't think of leaving Monterigionni. We will be watching your every move."

"Don't waste precious resources on me." I watched Desmond walk away, he moved almost like a wraith. Lost to the world and wandering about in his own head. "I want to help. I want to do anything possible to help your cause and to help Desmond. If everything you tell me is true, I want to do my part and stop these Templar bastards. I'm not a historian or engineer or anything special for that matter. But I think you could use all the help possible. Just tell me anything I can do to make things easier for you."

Lucy eyed me suspiciously. "Maybe we'll take you up on that. For now we'll just watch you."

I put a hand on my hip. "Shouldn't you be watching that survelliance van across the street?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"There's a parked Fiat across the street from the villa and to the left. Behind that is an unmarked, windowless van. I've watched guys leave and come back with food then stay in there for hours. I only saw them leave once or twice for bathroom breaks. The van hasn't left that spot for days, so the best I could figure was they were spying on someone." I threw open the flap of my messenger bag and handed her my sketchbook. "Check the third page."

Lucy opened the sketchbook and turned to the appointed page before studying the drawing. I rendered a still life of two men entering the rear of the van, both in matching uniforms and both armed.

"We'll have to stay underground, and we'll all have to take longer lookout shifts. Supplies could run out." She muttered to herself.

"I could bring supplies. I've been coming here for years during the night, the locals all know me and my habits. It wouldn't be noticeable if I came with extra food or whatever you may need. Come on, let me get a hand in overthrowing these power-hungry sons of bitches."

She paused, clearly thinking hard on the possibilities. The sketchbook was passed back to me and she gave an exasperated sigh. "Alright. We need all the help we can get. We can't spare the resources to train you but you can still make things easier," She glanced up at Desmond. "For all of us."

"Thank you," I smiled. "But right now, I need some shut eye like mad. I'll come here after dark tomorrow night, alright?"

"Alright, make sure you aren't followed." She responded.

I paused. How on earth was I supposed to lose someone following me on a three minute walk? "Sure thing." I reassured her.

"Good. If you're still out at the time, make sure he's in before dawn." With that she turned around and retreated back into the villa.

I went and sat beside Desmond while he stared up at the moon. "Are you in touch with reality right now?" I asked.

"More or less," He sighed before rubbing his eyes.

"That's a shitty answer. Reality is perception. Whatever you percieve is your reality. If you trully percieve the skies are made of marmalade, then that's your reality. The only way you could 'more or less' be in touch with reality is if you doubt what you percieve. Which leads me to ask: what are you doubting?" I lightly smacked his shoulder.

"I... it's just... I can't explain it." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Don't worry about it," I stood up and stepped away. "I'll leave you to figure it out on your own. I don't think my nonsense will help you all that much."

"Stay," His voice was so pitiful I couldn't help it, I turned back to him. "please. I like the distraction."

"How about this?" I put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go home and get some sleep, you'll stay here and do the same. Then tomorrow night I'll bring you some food and distract you until the cows come home. Sound good?"

"Yeah, thanks." He looked up at me and turned his gaze back to the night sky.

I smiled at him. "You provide a pretty good distraction too. I'll see you tomorrow night. Go get some sleep, okay?"

He didn't respond. I took the hint and jogged home in time to see my aunt off to bed, after a few minutes of restless silence I sat up in my bed and tip-toed to the living room and carefully removed the earliest journal from the glass display case. Also featured beside the journals are a collection of crystal bells and antique documents from around the world, both things my aunt has a talent for unearthing in the most unlikely of places, including an first-edition copy of Common Sense by Thomas Paine she snatched up during an estate auction while touring in western Europe. But that discovery came before my escapade with the U.S law enforcement and even sooner still than my arrival on her doorstep in historic Monterigionni.

I sat back down on my bed, journal in hand and flicked on the swivel-head lamp on my right hand bedside table. I was well acquanted with this journal and skipped the dull childhood chapters to the section in which my great-to-the-tenth-power-grandfather and his younger sister made a life for themselves during the third crusades in Jerusalem, my grandmother an unmarried woman commited to her duties as the household's caretaker and a christian crusading woman working to 'cleanse' the holy lands, all the while my grandfather married noble woman's handmaid while at war in the middle east. His station as a captain in the christian armies gave him many options in who he could marry, though it was the general view that a handmaid was below his station, there wasn't such a seperation in class enough to cause much of a stir. I picked up reading around the time Ceana is welcoming the new bride into the house.

ooo000OOO000ooo

I and the four servants of the house stood together, eyes turned mirthfully to the open door through which my newly-wedded brother and his crimson faced bride stepped. The two shared a moments embrace before turning to us, the waiting household, and pulling me into a hug and excepting the well-wishes and congratulations from the rest of the house. I reassuringly put a hand to the new bride's shoulder and welcomed her to our family. This seemed to calm her a great deal, during their brief courtship Elizabeth worried greatly over her lack of dowry, relying solely on the generosity of the nobles she served. The fair woman had no family of her own to speak of. My brother left the room and I took it upon myself to show her the house. Her grin was contagious as I guided her to the garden, decorated with many cushions and sweet smelling flowers that thrived around a large fountain. The kitchen was introduced to her, though not very long thereafter we were passing through the house's drawing room and into her new bed chambers. From the embers of the fireplace she stooped to light incense and placed it beside the large window to waft it's scent on the desert breeze. We provided a chest of clothing, along with the few articles she owned when serving her previous family. I took my leave then, as soon as I heard the singing voices on the wind. The evening meal needed serving and Elizabeth required her privacy.

Through supper every face held a smile and every man and woman ate in mutual enjoyment of each other's company. Tomorrow the harvest would begin and another year of hard work in sowing more crops would begin, but for now we enjoyed the festivities of my brother's marriage. The newly wed couple retired after supper and I helped to clear away the dirty dishes and toss the scraps to the hounds. My brother would stay another day or two with his new wife before returning to his daily routine with his men, of that I was sure. I was thankful he at the least had a few days reprieve from being forced to kiss Robert's boots.

My long sleeves were pushed back above my elbows as I left the house to bring grain to the horses. Inside the city walls I wouldn't dare reveal so much of myself. I wouldn't dare show an inch of chestnut hair even, or much of my face for that matter. But today I wore my simple dress, apron tied firmly in place as I fed and groomed the horses before laying a heavy blanket across their backs to fend off the night's chill.

As I drew water from the well, the hound's long howls startled me and caused me to drop the pale from my hands, spilling water across my dress. A horse galloped at a break-neck speed across my family's farmland, spoiling a few crops along the way. The robed and hooded man steering the horse paid no mind to the livelihood he disrupted. I took up the pale from the ground and ran for the fence, the horse and hooded man galloping towards me. I raised the wooden pale above my head and hurled it for all I was worth, striking the man across the back as his horse leapt over the fence. He spared a glance towards me but no pause was given as he made his way to the city walls and dismounted at the gate before entering.

I fumed and childishly stomped by foot against the dust. With an irritated sigh I went to the well again and drew more water for my bath. I bathed and retired to my chambers without disturbance.

I rose with the singing of the morning prayers. Outside my door I could hear the rousing noises of breakfast being prepared. Fresh water was poured into the basin on my vanity with which I scrubbed my face and arms. Dressing in simple clothing, I tied my apron on and stepped into the corridor to break fast and begin my day's duties. The newly weds were nowhere to be found while the rest of the household ate and I stepped out into the fields before beginning the long process of harvest.

"I've uncovered a trail of ruined crop!" Elijah, one of our hired workers bellowed.

"A hooded brute and his steed pounded through the field late in the night," I pushed my sleeves up and began to pull crop from the ground before tossing them into the cart waiting beside the row.

"Ceana!" I turned to greet Eithne, who hurried from the house with her dress pulled above her knees.

"Good morning, Eithne." I tossed another harvested veg into the cart. "What puts you in such a fluster?"

"The crop meant to be sold in the city's stand has become rotten with mold. There's nothing to sell. We've an empty stand." She panted as though she ran from the markets.

"I will remedy this. Thank you, Eithne." I turned and called to Elijah. "Gather what you've harvested thus far. We must take what we have into the city."

"Yes miss." He made haste to the horses and readied the cart for travel. While he did so I hurried into the house to cover my head with a veil and change into a dress more socially acceptable. When I exited Elijah had pulled the horse and cart in front of the house and I joined him. We rode into the city and to the markets where we quickly deposited various crop to be sold and provide revenue for our household. Elijah returned to the fields with the cart while I stayed with the stand, enjoying the company of the few people who regularly bought veg from our stall. Eithne returned after the sun reached its highest point in the sky and the population greatly thinned as the noon prayers rang out over the city. The younger woman and I chatted pleasantly until prayers ended and the people returned. I pulled the veil closer around myself and tucked any possible locks of hair that risked falling into view securely into place.

As I turned away from the front of the stand to adjust my hair, a masculine voice broke the monotony of the hour. "I require two bundles please," I rushed to push my hair back under the veil. A man, clearly native to these lands with a trimmed beard and short messy hair watched Eithne's movements with intelligent and clever eyes. Although, his features gave the impression there was a strong undercurrent of bitterness beneath his handsome face and pleasing build, this I could only guess stemmed for some reason from the lacking right arm. A long dark robe covered white clothes and crimson sash and the right sleeve was pinned up from above the elbow and against the shoulder. I cast my eyes down to avoid a social embarassment while I passed the bundles to Eithne.

The man held out an amount of coin I couldn't discern when the city bells began to ring furiously. In the near distance there was a commotion and he swore before dropping the currency on the stall surface and nearly bolting from sight without taking the bundles of crop. I nearly gaped at the obscene amount of coin he left behind without even taking his due. In a rush I counted the coin and gathered the difference along with the bundles before running after his disappearing back. "Sir!" I called to him over the noise of the crowd but received no response to the many summons. I decided to follow the man to his home where I would stop him and give him his due. Though I would never admit it aloud, I would enjoy more time to look on him and maybe even the chance to speak with him. A woman carrying water in a clay jar stepped in my way and before I could correct my path the container smashed against the ground and angry curses were hurled at me. I was forced to stop and offer apologies, when I turned back to search out the man I followed I only glimpsed his robe sweeping into a house and a door shutting behind him. As I approached I could hear a bar being placed over the door and I cursed my luck. Beside the door I placed the two bundles, wrapped to keep out dirt, beside his doorstep along with a small sack with his rightful amount of coin. In the dust I scrawled out a message away from the footpaths sure to obscure any writing.

_"You deserve your due. I thank you for your patronage and hope to see you again soon._

_-Ceana MacMannus"_

As I stepped away to return to Eithne I spotted a man running along the rooftops, white robes billowing behind him and more weapons than I could count lining his body as he ran with admirable grace and dropped out of my view into one of the houses. From beyond the barred door I could hear angry words and what could only be harsh chastising. It was then that I took my leave. Little did I know I would indeed see the man again the next day.

ooo000OOO000ooo

Dawn had long since stained my dark curtains the color of peaches and I fell asleep then, the journal of my ancestor Ceana MacMannus held loosely in my hands until some time in the day time hours it fell from my fingers and onto the chilled wooden floors.

I woke an hour or two before sunset when my aunt kicked up her usual racket while cooking my 'breakfast/dinner'.

"Sweet mother of God, please don't let her try to cook Indian food again." I groaned into my drool stained pillow, "Save me the diarrhea and I promise no more dead baby jokes during Sunday night church."

"Brianag," My aunt knocked on my door while slowly stepping in.

"There is no Brianag, only Zool." I threw the blankets over my head.

"Well, would Zool like to come to after dark Bible study with me? I made you that Indian curry you told me you liked."

"Hey, aunt Becky?" I slid the covers below my chin.

She stepped closer. "Hmm?"

"What's the difference between a Lamborghini and a bag of dead babies?"

The older woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know."

I jumped out of bed and started to pull open my clothing drawers. "There's no Lamborghini in my garage."

"That's not funny."  
"Then why do so many people laugh?"  
She walked out of the room before muttering. "I just died inside."

My aunt left shortly after and I trashed the foul-smelling curry then took out the garbage to hide the evidence and spare her feelings. With half a grilled cheese hanging out of my mouth I checked my voice messages and listened while I inhaled the sandwich and pulled on a Jim Morrison t-shirt.

_"Hey, Bri,"_ That sounded like Jason. _"I'll keep it short because I'm sure the feds are listening."_ I had to laugh at that. _"Things around here are still quiet without you and we wish you could come home. Lynze is planning on backpacking her way to Italy,"_ Lynze's shouting voice interrupted my best friend. _"Damn right! I'm packing my shit now! I want pulled pork sandwiches when I get there too!" "Excuse me, this is my call! Yell at her on your own long distance minutes."_ There was the sound of a struggle and a good many curse words then abruptly the line went dead and the machine moved on to the next messages.

The remaining calls were for my aunt and I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After grilling up more cheese sandwiches and bagging up a simple to-go meal for Desmond and I, Deadmau5 was started on my small stereo to further boost my good mood. My messenger bag was- for the most part- cleaned out of unecessary junk and only the bare minimum of art supplies and Ceana's journal. I watched the last of the sun's rays disappear while nodding my head to MGMT's Time To Pretend from the Oracular Spectacular album and snatched up my bag and Razzleberry Peace Tea from the refridgerator, turned off all the lights and stereo and left the house in a better mood than I have for the better part of a month.

The van was parked in the same place it was last night, big surprise. I kept a wary eye on it while I stopped to buy Mike & Ikes and a random selection of Italian candy. Half the Mike & Ikes were anhilated by the time I got started walking up the steps to the Auditore Villa.

"You came earlier than I thought you would," Lucy's voice startled me enough to swallow a few of the pill-shaped candies whole. I was sad I couldn't enjoy the flavor of chewing those unfortunate treats.

"Hell's bells, woman!" I could make out her form on the high roof. "What are you doing up there?"

"Enjoying the view. Hold on a sec, I'll climb down."

Grumbling to myself, I popped a few more candies into my mouth while Lucy made her way down.

On level ground, she wiped her hands on her pants and smiled. "I thought you wouldn't come until after midnight. Isn't that sleeping in to you?"

"Was that a joke?" I glanced around me. "The jury votes yes. I didn't know you had a sense of humor."

Some of the good mood left her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

I shrugged. "The way you talked yesterday, I mean, it just sounded like you had too much on your plate to waste time with humor."

"I don't often have the time," She conceded.

"I understand." That sentence was quickly rethought. "Well, I don't fully understand. But I see why."

"Let's go inside." She motioned to the door and I stepped in after her.

"Oh look who's back," Shaun greeted with his usual asshole-ian amount of sarcasm.

I grinned at him. "What would you do without the enormous grace of my presence to give you a purpose in life?"

At that I received an overly sarcastic laugh and Shaun turned back to his monitor.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Lucy greeted a still drowsy Desmond.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

He shrugged and sat down in an empty folding chair. "Still pretty shitty."

"My super delicious grilled cheese will solve unpleasantness of any kind. Fact." I patted my bag and tried to lift his spirits with the most sincere smile I could muster.

"I'm not hungry," He waved it off.

I fixed him with a glare, "Shut up and eat my fucking sandwiches."

"Charming," Shaun snorted, Rebecca laughed quietly to herself.

I inclined my head to the stairs. "Come on, the moonlight will do wonders for a person's spirits. We'll talk and have a good time before you have to get back in the doo-hicky."

He pressed his head into his hands and palmed at his brow. "Lucy do you mind if I take a mental health day?"

"By all means," She began to scribble away on a high-tech tablet. "If you wouldn't mind I would like it if either of you checked on that surveillance van. See if there's any more activity than usual."

I wasn't quite sure what the word 'activity' constituted when you were talking about two guys sitting in a van all day. Much less what an unusual amount thereof would be. Maybe a surplus of ass-scratching or yawning. "Sure thing, I'll check on it. Is there anything you need from town while I'm topside?"

"Not right now. But most likely later we will." Rebecca called over her shoulder.

"Just give me a holler and I'll get it done." I waved to Lucy and walked with Desmond up the stairs and into the courtyard.

The half moon provided a fair amount of light and I was grateful I wouldn't have to use a lantern and risk drawing attention. "Park it here," I sat down against the stone outer wall and nodded my head to the spot next to me.

"When did you go to bed?" I handed him his individual bag of munchies.

"A few hours after you left, I had trouble staying still and falling asleep was kind of difficult." He set the bag next to him without even glancing inside and I sighed before putting my own sandwich away. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink, I suppose.

I stretched my legs out in front of me. "Then I guess you didn't sleep all that well then."

"I slept like the dead." He corrected. I was pretty glad about being proven wrong.

The few minutes of silence that followed were welcomed. I took the moment to gather my hair up into a ponytail and arrange my choppy bangs _just so_. My medium length hair, when pulled up like it is, tickled the back of my neck and I entertained myself by shaking my head to brush the hair back and forth against my neck.

"I'll be glad when this is all over," He broke the silence and I looked over at him.

"You and the rest of the world will." I snorted.

He looked surprised. "Have you even looked at world news?" I asked.

He shook his head and I let out a long heavy sigh. "Nearly every country is in some kind of political turmoil. A _lot_ of people think there's a ghost in the darkness, stirring up all this trouble and keeping people from agreeing on anything. I think these things are what the Templars are talking about and using as foundation for their ideas. But after so many years of cooperation, I find these conflicts awfully convenient. I think if you expose, destroy or even cut off the flow of money to these bastards everything will settle. Mysteriously of course." I shot him a sly grin.

His was slightly less sincere. Maybe he was losing faith in his own personal crusade. "Keep your chin up. You're the key to this whole thing, if you start to crack under the pressure the entire operation will too. It's a sure thing, you'll keep following the clear path your ancestor left you and find what you're looking for. The other guys don't have an ace in the hole like you." Okay, I didn't know that for sure. But saying that would be counter-productive. "They'll keep wandering around in the dark and you'll be on to the next step if this one doesn't ruin the Templars already." I nudged his arm with my elbow. "So whatever side effect the Ani-whosey-whats-it is putting on you, just tough it out and keep your eyes on the prize."

"Yeah. Thanks." I could tell he didn't think it was as easy as I made it sound. And I was very sure that it was easier said than done. I regretted the little pep talk. I felt like I insulted him on some level.

"I'll go check on that van. I'll be back in a bit." I patted his knee to relieve some of the tension and quickly left the scene.

ooo000OOO000ooo

Brigid smiled sweetly and slightly bowed her head. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The fox himself remained seated in the lounge and tilted his head, allowing Brigid a better view of his face. The legendary violet eyes left no detail unnoticed and the younger woman felt slightly underdressed for meeting such a renown figure.

"You've caused a stir in the city these last few days," His voice held a tinge of humor.

"It must be quite the nuissance if it warranted the legend to reveal himself." Brigid took a seat across from him and discreetly noted the fit, agile form the Fox commanded. Silently she chastised herself for her girlish lusts.

"Indeed. Many of my spies have turned up missing without warning or a trace. It wasn't until one of my many eyes in the city escaped from Borgia hands and warned me a small library of information was confiscated from The Scarlet Willow. Do you know anything about this?" His eyes told Brigid the question required no answer. "What I wonder is how you escaped my notice. Had I learned of your activities you would have been silenced long ago."

"The activities I noted and the predictions I made were shared with none," She answered sharply. "Nor had I any intention of selling them," Brigid paused and narrowed her eyes. "To either side. I didn't want to get involved. The Borgia finding the chest was a misshap on my part, victory on Cesare's part, and a lost opportunity on your own. I can be blamed for my naive mistake but not for your misfortune."

"You must be of noble birth to speak so rudely to a man."

"Perhaps," Brigid crossed her arms over her chest. "But you will never know." _Of course he will know. His business is knowing anything and everything he pleases._

"I accept your challenge," He responded with a mischevious grin. "I will know you," He stood and walked casually to the door. "I have business with Ezio. It was good to meet you, Brigid." With that he left the room and the woman seated herself in the chaise.

The fact was clear to her. She must get her journals back. To repay those who now gave her sanctuary if nothing else. Aside from the underground's activies the vatican's inner workings and Borgia movements were closely monitored as well. With the information in their hands, predicting future attacks would be simple. But where to start? Machiavelli wouldn't give her idea a second glance, nor would Ezio spare a single man to aide her in her search. She doubted she was on well enough terms to ask for help from Volpe. Who else in the underground would spare her a small bit of manpower to turn the tables so drastically in the Assassin's favor? Then again; maybe an army of one was all that was needed. Surely it would be much easier to get herself in and out of the situation, journals in hand. But she couldn't take the risk of being caught. She could handle a dagger, true, and even raise the family sword if needed. But against an armored man pointing a razor sharp halberd at her chest, she didn't stand a chance. Maybe, there was a chance she could speak to the man leading the Mercenaries. She'd never met the big brute herself, but heard talk that his wife had a head for tactics. That sounded like her best option.

Outside the first sounds of sprinkling rain on the stone windowsill caught her attention and Brigid cursed her luck. Of course the rain wouldn't deter her from her mission, but her hair would retain the moisture for hours. Maybe a revision of her priorities was in order. But not now. Now she needed to find suitable clothes to ride out on. A slitted dress was far from socially acceptable and she would prefer to get to the Barracks with as little trouble as possible. It was decided then that Ezio's clothes would serve as a viable substitute until she could return and put the dress back on.

The pants fit well enough with the added assistance of a belt, the excess space in the legs which Brigid's own couldn't fill were tucked into a pair of boots Ezio guessed would fit her, she made a note to thank the novice who donated them. A simple white men's shirt covered herself sufficiently, though she often had to adjust it. Using the discarded pins from the previous night, Brigid pulled all her hair up into a chignon save for a few locks to frame her face. The dagger was tucked into her belt and Brigid tip-toed down the hall and to the stairs.

She could hear Machiavelli lecturing a novice, she hoped he would take them outside for training, even a two minute swordplay demonstration would be a blessing. His voice began to fade slightly, a clue that he was moving throughout the room. Maybe he had his back turned. Brigid quickly stole a glance into the room to see Machiavelli disappear into the armory. As silently as she could, Brigid sprinted down the stairs and out the door, passing a bewildered blonde woman in Assassin robes on the way.

Outside, beyond a thin line of pedestrians, two horses idled, a large bale of hay for them to sustain on. Brigid quickly made her way to the smaller white animal and hauled herself up on the saddle. She was well acquainted with the proper way a lady should ride, but the speed this situation called for made riding the more masculine manner a necessity. A leg on either side, Brigid spurred the horse into a gallop and made her way out of the city and towards the Barracks, La Volpe following close behind.

**A/N: Reviews are food for starving writers such as myself. I'm reading over these chapters much more frequently and with much more scrutiny, kinda... sometimes. But anyway the grammatical errors should become fewer and far between. Sorry about any I missed. Thanks for reading and if you want me to continue I need to know this fic is worth the time I put into it. So leave a review. Not that I'm saying favorites and follows are any less gratifying. But I like to have that personal connection with my readers. I'm going to try out leaving personal notes to my reviewers in the author's notes to be a bit more personable. Thanks again for reading and I hope to hear from you very soon.**

**-Kat**


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